#so this is the most horrifying joke I have ever made in the history of ever

[5tupidusrnam3]

Fear

thing I made in the middle of the night some days ago

What the text says under the read more thing

hello I am a worm bucket

hello

(AAAAAAAAAAAA) ok I’m not welcome I’m leaving (AAAAAAA)

I also have scoleciphobia

#I have a phobia of snails and if a snail ever crawled on me I would break down into tears and panic and cry and I would also panic and I w #so this is the most horrifying joke I have ever made in the history of ever #I just imagined being a snail bucket and I could feel them on me and it’s horrifying why do I feel it what #anyways this is a post about a phobia of worms not snails and I’m talking in the tags because I am sick and that is my reason #scoleciphobia #Stupid stupid post stupid stupidest post stupid STUPID POST this is a stupid post tag #Osc

[shadowkoo]

Ten out of Ten

→ Summary: For the past three years, Kim Taehyung has made it his mission to annoy you relentlessly on campus, finding every possible way to drive you up the wall during your shared classes. However, as you both enter your senior year, something strange happens. Taehyung begins to sense a shift in his energy, realizing he might just have some secret feelings for you. What unfolds when you make this earth-shattering discovery too?

↠ kth x f.reader | 8.6k words | 18+ ↠ genre: smut, humor, college au, enemies to lovers, fratboy!bangtan

→ Warnings: explicit & unprotected sex, consensual drunk sex, shower sex, ‘revenge’ sex (all fun and games), alcohol consumption, party crashed by police, dirty talk, soft kissing, rough kissing, hard dom!taehyung, soft dom!taehyung, grinding, fingering, sloppy oral sex, cock swallowing, choking on tae’s cock, throat fucking, slight praising, begging, sense of ownership, size kink, taehyung has a huge dong, belly bulge, reader gets dicked down almost too good (if that’s a thing), breast & nipple play, riding, reversal, biting, teasing, cockwarming, creampie, cum play, cum eating, cum stuffing, spanking, choking ft. tae’s beautiful hands, pussy slapping, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, multiple sex scenes

→ Author note: Inspired by this popular post!! If you’d like to read this on ao3 instead it’s been crossposted here! As always, all likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated <3

“This is wrong. This is so wrong.” He moans after pushing you up against his closed bedroom door, “Are you sure? Are you drunk?” You roll your eyes.

“Stop trying to talk me out of this,” you whisper while leaving wet kisses along his jawline. You’ve waited too long. There’s no way in hell you’re stopping now. Lifting your head up and looking into his eyes, you continue, “I didn’t drink that much. I want this. I want you.”

He groans and presses his lips into yours yet again. “I swear this wasn’t my intention,” he says after pulling back.

You kiss him hard, but your quick attempt to shut him up doesn’t work.

“I promise it wasn’t,” he blurts, “I was just being honest, you know the rules of the game.” He pulls you close again as his lips flutter around your neck, causing an airy sigh to escape from your parted ones.

“No more talking. Please.” You pull his face back up and let his lips harshly reattach to yours. He proceeds to kiss you, slowing down when you try to speed things up.

“I just need you to know that I didn’t plan for this to happen,” he repeats.

“Taehyung!” You whine as your eyes tell him to stop worrying about it, “Shut up and kiss me.”

“I need to hear you say it. I need to make sure I’m not dreaming.”

You pull back slightly from his embrace to tug your shirt off, “Tae please,“ you beg between kisses, the slick from your heat seeping through your thin underwear, "Just fuck me already.”

Earlier that day…

“Taehyung! You asshole!” you holler while chasing after the guy who’s currently running along the sidewalk with your history paper in hand.

You finally catch up to him by the fountain that sits at the campus’s center, watching him nervously as he jokes around, holding the most important five thousand words you’ve ever written.

“I will kill you if you get a single drop of water on that! It’s due in ten minutes!” you threaten as he tosses the stapled paper between his hands. “Taehyung, please. I was up all night writing this. It’s worth forty percent of my grade,” you beg, really hoping he’ll take a step down before anything bad happens.

“Quit freaking out, I’m not going-” his words are short-lived as a gust of wind steals the paper from his loose grip. You both watch, completely horrified, as it flutters through the air in slow motion and falls directly down into the clear water.

“Oh no. No no no. Oh my god. I swear to god that wasn’t supposed to happen! I was just teasing!” Taehyung panics as he jumps through the fountain, slipping and thoroughly soaking himself further as rushes over to your sunken assignment. He wipes away the water on his face and retrieves the soggy paper lying on the vibrant tile below. Drops of ink run off the paper, smearing the barely legible words even more.

You feel as though you've momentarily forgotten how to breathe.

“Okay. It’s okay,” you say to yourself, trying to calm down, “Everything’s fine. It’s fine. I can just head back to the library and reprint it, I’d rather be a few minutes late for class than get a zero on this.”

“Uh, hmmm, yeah…” Taehyung clears his throat nervously, scratching the back of his neck while doing so. “About that…”

“Don’t say it,” you threaten anxiously. You internally beg that what you assume he’s going to say next is not true. It can’t be. You will it not to be.

“The library closed twenty minutes ago. It always closes early on Thursdays and Fridays,” He says sheepishly with a face full of remorse, though you doubt he actually feels it.

“Great,” you huff, “That’s just fucking great.” The calmness dissipates as rage takes over your body. “I honestly cannot believe you sometimes. Will you ever grow the fuck up? We’re not freshmen anymore! You can’t just dick around like this. Wrecking each others’ projects was funny three years ago when our grades didn’t matter but we can’t keep doing this. Just-” you take a deep breath to regain some of your calmness, “Get. The fuck. Away from me.” You rip your destroyed paper out of his hands and storm off in the direction of the building where your class is held.

Maybe that was a little rude. Actually, no, it wasn’t. He deserved it. He ruined your history paper. Intentionally, too.

“I’m coming with you, I’ll explain what happened,” Taehyung persists, somehow keeping up with your angry stomps as you head to class.

“Quit following me, I’m screwed enough as it is,” you grumble, knowing that he’s trudging along behind you even without turning around to confirm it.

His footsteps slow once you reach the outside of the history department.

Maybe he finally got the message.

“Ahhh, Miss Y/N. You’re late,” your professor says as you enter the quiet classroom and try to make your way to your empty assigned seat. He stops you before you can sit, “Do you have your paper ready to turn in?”

You shamefully drop what’s left of your paper into your professors’ hands.

“Is this your submission?” he asks, holding it up with his fingers, watching as the remaining water droplets fall to the floor. Your classmates snicker as they watch the scene in front of them unfold.

Yet, just as you're about to respond, the classroom door violently swings open, instantly capturing everyone's attention in unison.

“It’s my fault,” Taehyung pants after barging in.

“Excuse me, sir, who are you? And why are you dripping in my lecture?”

“What the hell are you doing here?” you quietly seethe.

“I considered heading to my class but I just felt too bad,” he says to you before turning to your professor. “It’s my fault her paper is soaked, I mean look at me. I am too. After an unfortunate turn of events - events that neither of us anticipated - it fell in the fountain and so did I. But you can see that…because I’m wet. Wet like water wet, not like the other kind of wet. That would be weird, considering… But probably more awkward than anything though. If I’m being honest. You know, my mother taught me that honesty is the best policy. So that’s what I’m doing here. Being honest…about me…and her paper, being, uh, you know, wet…”

It's unclear who is more astonished, you or your professor. Is this really happening right now? You’ve never heard Taehyung ramble like this. If you weren’t so stunned or feeling secondhand embarrassment for him, you would’ve probably laughed hysterically.

The older man gives Taehyung a once over, his eyes peering over his reading glasses as they travel up and down the damp clothes stuck to the twenty-something’s figure. Displeased, he turns to look at the disintegrating mess of your so-called paper that’s stuck between his fingers.

“Haha, yeah…so uh, I’m gonna go now,” Taehyung says as he finger guns to the door before anyone else can get a word in, “I hope this is resolved. And um, I’m going to make sure I never sign up for one of your classes, Mr. uh, I don’t know your name. But that doesn’t matter. Trust me when I say you won’t ever have to see me again.” And with that, he exits the class with the same amount of speed as he entered.

Your professor shakes his head in disbelief. “Email me your paper once you get seated and I’ll only dock you ten percent off from your original grade, as long as you promise that won’t ever happen again.”

“Deal.”

“He did what?” your roommate’s voice echoes from inside her bedroom as she makes her way into the kitchen where you’re reheating leftovers for dinner.

“I know! I could’ve killed him. I don’t know what it is lately, but he’s been irritating me more than usual. The way he just went on and on, rambling like a complete idiot. Ugh!” you mutter while waiting for the microwave to beep. The whole situation still has you mildly irate.

Sana gives you a pointed look.

“What?” you squint your eyes at her, “What does that face mean?”

“When are you two going to realize that you’re like, in love with each other? It’s always Taehyung did this or you did that. FYI, we’re all tired of hearing about it. Girl, I adore you and your little rants most of the time, but it’s exhausting listening to you two complain about each other literally all the time. We’re in the same friend group and it’s just so obvious to us all that you guys like each other, but are just stubbornly ignoring the facts that are so obviously right in front of you.”

“I’m going to pretend like you didn’t just say that. Dinner is done,” you say, brushing aside what you just heard. It’s too crazy to even think about.

You liking Taehyung? Taehyung liking you? Absolutely not. No way! That’s ridiculous, that’s just…almost crazy enough to be true.

The thought surprises you.

Sure, Taehyung is nice to look at. You’ve never questioned his attractiveness. But you drew the line a long time ago, knowing better than to allow yourself to grow any form of attachment to the guy who prefers to drive you batshit crazy.

It’s just easier that way. Yeah, sure, playing around and pissing each other off gives you some kind of satisfaction, but you don’t need him in your life. He isn’t that significant.

Or is he?

The more you think about it, the harder a time you have imagining your life without the messy-haired asshole who you’ve somehow grown to…love?

“Whatever, give me a bowl,” Sana says, pulling you from your thoughts before you’re able to dwell on the ‘L’ word very much. “I’m starving. And we need to eat quickly so we have enough time to get ready.”

“Oh, fuck me sideways,” you moan, annoyed with yourself for forgetting, “It’s Thursday.”

Sana’s boyfriend’s fraternity hosts a party every other Thursday night. There’s no way you’re getting out of it either, seeing as you promised her two weekends ago you’d go to the next since you bailed.

“Uh-uh! Don’t even start,” Sana warns. “You’re coming tonight whether you want to or not!”

A frat party is the worst kind of party in your opinion. Memories of the last one you attended float around your mind; wannabee rappers holding their phones by your ear so you can hear their ‘latest diss track’, girls arguing over a guy who doesn’t deserve either in your opinion, drunk couples practically fucking on the couch.

Oh, don’t forget about the pick me girl begging for attention or that guy who gets so fucking obnoxious and is willing to start a fistfight with anyone within an arm's distance. And lastly, the typical fuckboy that will say anything to get you into his bed. Yeah, frat parties are so not your thing.

But you promised Sana, and she’d hold it against you until the end of time if you didn’t go tonight.

You made a plan anyway. Show up, say hi to a few friends, have a few drinks, and disappear before anyone can notice you’ve made a run for it. Fingers crossed that you can pull it off.

The party is in full swing when you arrive, or so you are assuming since you had to step over someone passed out on the lawn on your way toward the front steps. The door is wide open, and Sana immediately spots her boyfriend Joon from across the room. His face lights up when he notices her waving dramatically and makes his way over to you two.

“She actually came? In the flesh? Y/N, is that really you?” Namjoon teases, obviously not expecting you to make an appearance.

“Hi, Joon. Good to see you too.”

“I was surprised, she didn’t even put up a fight about it tonight.” Sana giggles as soon as Joon pulls her into his arms for a sloppy kiss. You look away and scan the room, searching through the crowd of familiar yet vague faces.

“Sana! Get a room, girl!” one of them hollers, cheering her on as she shoves her tongue down her boyfriend’s throat.

She pulls back and flips off Yoongi, the culprit and one of Joon’s frat brothers, and walks further into the house, scanning the audience for tonight.

“Hey, think you could bring some of your single friends over? Preferably a random group of them with one specific person we all have in our mind. She needs to go home with a guy tonight,” she says to Yoongi as he walks over with drinks in hand for you and Sana.

Everyone seems to understand what she’s saying, other than you, who of course is oblivious yet again as to who they’re referencing.

“I heard you had a rough day,” Yoongi says, handing you one of the plastic cups with a sideways grin as you give Sana an agitated look after smacking her on the arm. But she doesn’t seem to acknowledge either and instead, smirks at Yoongi’s remark. “I have a certain person in mind. Let me see if I can find where he ran off too.”

Joon laughs knowing all too well what happened, "We’ll do our best, see you in a few.”

"Oh my god, Sana! I can’t believe you sometimes,” you whine after the guys are out of earshot.

"What? It’s not like I’m wrong! You need a good time tonight just to relax. You don’t have any Friday classes anyway so have some fun.” She shrugs her shoulders and walks away to say hi to some of her other girlfriends.

While she’s gone and the guys are hunting, you spot Taehyung leaning up against a bookshelf filled with novels you bet haven’t been touched in decades. You try your hardest to weave your way through the crowded area before he can notice you, but unfortunately, your eyes lock with his just as you’re squeezing through a group of girls you’ve never seen before. Freshmen, probably.

“What are you doing here?” you question, not even attempting to hide the annoyed tone in your voice when you feel his presence behind you.

“What do you mean, ’What am I doing here?’ I live here. What are you doing here? I thought you hated these sorts of things.”

"You live here?” you ask, ignoring his question as your head whips around. “I didn’t know you were in the same fraternity as Namjoon.”

“I didn’t know you didn’t know. Sorry?” He laughs as you take the last sip of your mystery drink. “Need another? I’m heading to the kitchen.”

“Uh, whatever you’re having,” you say. Alcohol is alcohol.

“Sure thing. Oh hey, Sana! Where’s Joon?” Taehyung asks, acknowledging that your sidekick returned, but without her significant other.

“Hey Tae, he’s in the Blue Room. Which is where I must drag you to,” she smiles devilishly, grabbing your arm to pull you away. Though unbeknownst to her, you would gladly go anywhere that’s away from Taehyung right now.

“Ahhh, is it already time?” he wonders out loud. “I’ll meet you there,” he says and leaves for the kitchen to grab drinks.

As you’re being pulled away, the only thought parading through your mind is how much you want to rip his head off for the stunt he pulled earlier, but also the multiple ways you can get your revenge on him for costing you ten percent on a paper that would have otherwise been an A+.

Sana pulls you into the second living room, the Blue Room as it’s ‘famously’ known for its somewhat derogatory, yet exclusive, activities. If you could call them that.

Only those invited are allowed to enter. You’re not sure why, but the guys take their rule pretty seriously.

You recognize nearly all of the people already in here, the majority being Namjoon’s frat brothers;

Seokjin; the one that’s always surrounded by both girls and guys. His presence easily fills the room and even without saying a single word he demands their attention.

Yoongi; the one that loves to start shit and can smell drama and sexual tension from a mile away. He knows how to push the right buttons to hear precisely what he wants.

Hoseok; the one who is always smirking about something that no one else seems to know. Not really a gossiper, but definitely knows everything about everyone.

Namjoon; the guy who everyone respects but still teases for being totally whipped for Sana. He’s a softie but can still kick anyone’s ass in mere seconds.

Jimin; the sweet one with a dark side you never want to get on. You’ve heard stories that will haunt you for a while.

And finally, Jungkook; the one who never knows what’s going on but is having a great time regardless. A happy dork who can make you laugh no matter what.

Somehow Taehyung fits into this group too, but you don’t know exactly where he stands yet.

The rest of the room consists of girls you’ve seen around campus and guys attempting to gain Seokjin’s total attention but would probably never get it. Although there are a handful of faces you haven’t seen before, which is refreshing.

It looks like everyone is getting ready to play Ten out of Ten, which is basically a drinking game to initiate party hookups, a ‘how much do you like me’ sort of thing.

To play, everyone in the room writes their name on a little piece of paper and it gets thrown into a bowl. The bowl then gets passed around and each person draws a name out of the bowl, but can’t look at the name until it’s their turn. One person starts and says the name on the paper they pulled and then rates the person a number out of ten if they would sleep with them or not. So then the person whose name was called would go next, and say who they have and rate them. Like a chain game, and you just have to say a number out of ten if you would bang them or not. It’s not really supposed to be a drinking game but somehow it’s become a tradition to take a shot after you say your rating, and especially if someone says ten out of ten - then everyone takes a shot.

Sana grabs two slips of paper and hands one to you. You write your name and hand the pen to her. ‘So much for a couple of drinks and dipping,’ you say internally, realizing that the game will last a while with this many participants. Hopefully, Taehyung remembers your drink. You’re going to need it.

You sigh and sit on the arm of the chair Sana is in as you wait for the game to start.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Taehyung walking towards you with, thank god, a rather large cup in his hand.

“I hope this satisfies your alcoholic needs,” he jokes, “I made it the same way as mine, but with a little less alcohol since I didn’t want to fuck you up a lot."

You take it from him and raise the cup to your mouth. The scent is strong, and your eyes twitch after taking a small sip. He laughs at your quiet sputtering.

“I’ll be good after it hits me. Thanks.”

"Yeah, sure. No problem. And sorry about earlier, again. I know you’ll get me back soon enough and it will be well deserved,” He grins before walking over to sit next to Jungkook.

“Alright, alright.” Jimin starts as he walks around the room with the bowl in his hands, letting everyone grab a piece of paper while he goes over the rules for the newbies invited. The bowl makes its way around the room, and everyone tosses in theirs before Jimin shakes it up and starts letting people pull out a folded piece of paper.

Once everyone has one, he sets the bowl aside, “Everyone ready?”

“Wait, I didn’t get one,” Taehyung says looking around, somewhat confused and a little suspicious. Something’s going on. He just doesn’t know what exactly.

“Oh I didn’t know you were back already, this is the last one,” Jimin says, handing him a name slip, failing to hide the evil grin on his face. “Okay, let’s get this started!”

About ten minutes into the game, you are already feeling the buzz. Whatever Taehyung gave you is pretty damn good now that you’re drunk enough to not taste the alcohol. Meaning, you’re drinking more than you’re paying attention to the game.

Needless to say, you’re a little spaced out until you hear someone say your name. You look up and make eye contact with Taehyung from across the room.

He chuckles awkwardly and sits up. “Of course,” he mutters under his breath, not-so-silently cursing Jimin at the same time.

Taehyung has my name?

“Oh, please go on. We can’t wait to hear what you have to share,” Joon grins as Taehyung responds with a death glare.

The room goes silent in anticipation of what he’s going to say, especially your shared friends. They’re watching very intently as Taehyung takes a swig of his drink and curses again.

“Ten out of ten would bang,” he announces, pausing for a quick moment to take a shot along with everyone else, but you. You’re too awe and unable to do anything but gawk at him as he continues.

“But also ten out of ten would care for you afterward, ten out of ten would let you stay over, ten out of ten would tuck you in, ten out of ten would cuddle the shit outta you in bed, ten out of ten would make sure you fall asleep okay, and ten out of ten would make you breakfast in the morning.”

You’re sure you look crazy with your eyes popping out and your jaw nearly on the floor. Everyone else’s reaction pretty much mirrors yours. Everyone except Sana who is squealing like crazy next to you. A few of the girls glare at you as the guys whoop and holler.

You’re unsure how you feel about what just happened. If it even happened. Or if you somehow hallucinated the whole thing.

Did Taehyung just confess? Does that even count as a confession? Or was he just playing along with the game? Did the room get smaller? Why the hell is it so hot in here?

You take a deep breath, remembering that everyone’s eyes are still on you since it’s your turn, and yet you’re frozen in your spot.

Do they expect you to say something before you take your turn? Do you even want to say anything? Maybe he was joking, maybe you could laugh it off. Or maybe he meant it… What if he meant it?

You fiddle with the piece of paper between your fingers before deciding to unfold it and get on with it so you can get the hell out of this small room.

“Um. Woojin, six out of ten,” you spit out as quickly as you can and immediately get up to leave. You don’t even know where you are going, just following where your feet are taking you.

You have two options; you can either leave and face the wrath of Sana when she comes home - if she comes home - or you can hide somewhere until you can come up with a better plan while you attempt to sober up. The latter is what your subconscious goes with as your body stumbles upstairs to find an unoccupied bedroom to hide out in.

The first one was not locked but definitely should have been. Thankfully you didn’t see too much of the two who you found in a compromising position, and thankfully they probably won’t remember the incident in the morning either.

Fortunately, the next room you barge into is free. After shutting the door, you lean up against it and close your eyes while you focus on your breathing. Your heart is still racing as you try to not think about what happened downstairs.

Feeling calmed down enough, you open your eyes and look around. The first thing that catches your eye is the band posters that cover the wall. Everything from Sinatra and Dean Martin, to The Doors and The Rolling Stones, to Bad Omens and Bring Me The Horizon.

Whoever this room belongs to has good taste. For being a boy's room, it’s pretty clean too. Yeah, there are clothes spewn here and there, but it isn’t any worse than the state that you left your own room in.

Sighing, you sit on the edge of the bed and cover your face with your hands.

What now?

"Yeah, sorry to ruin your moment or whatever, but my room is off-limits. If you’re gonna puke or pass out I’d rather you find somewhere else to do it.”

You lift your head to see the one and only person you did not expect to see in your current confused state standing in the doorway. “Taehyung.”

“Oh,” he says, “It’s you. How did you know this was my room?”

“I didn’t. I was hiding.” Shit, you weren’t supposed to say that.

“Oh…” he says again, shutting his door so the noise of the party lessens. He walks over to sit next to you on the bed, "I was looking for you. After you, uh, ran out.” He hesitates to see if you say anything. You don’t.

“Look,” he begins, “I don’t want to make things awkward. I know we’re friends. Sort of. When we’re not trying to murder each other and all that. But I’ve been into you for a while now and I just can’t hide it any longer. If it’s okay with you, I’d like to take you out sometime."

Once again, you’re gawking.

"Oh god, are you gonna puke or something?” His eyes are panicky as he looks around the room for something you can use in case you do.

“No! No, I just, ahh…” It’s now or never, “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, I am.”

"And did you mean what you said earlier?” You say, referring to his confession in The Blue Room. You try to hide how hard your heart is pounding inside your chest. Just as you would have to hide how hurt you’re going to be when he says the inevitable.

“Well…” He trails off, and you prepare for the worst.

He wasn’t serious, it was some kind of joke, you misheard him, there was another person with your name in the room-

“Hello? Are you sure you’re not going to puke? You look a little pale.”

“I’m fine, was it a lie, just for the game?” you say leaning towards his body, his inevitably doing the same. “Or were you being honest?”

“I was being one hundred percent honest. And I still am. I like you, a lot. As hard as that is for me to admit.” His hand grazes yours and rests on top of it. He was half expecting you to pull away and run out of the room but is more than happy to realize that isn’t the case. Maybe you feel something too. His eyes burn into yours as he awaits your response.

It’s hard for you to admit your feelings as well. If you weren’t both so perfectly stubborn and bull-headed, you might have made this conclusion a long time ago.

You hate to admit that. You hate being wrong.

But Taehyung doesn’t feel wrong to you. His hand on yours feels so…right.

"Good,” you sigh in relief, finally giving in to your heart. You lean in closer and lightly brush your lips against his, pulling back to gauge his reaction.

Taehyung’s breath hitches. The moment you pull away he hastily stands up and moves to his door, his back pressed flat against the wooden surface while the angel and devil on his shoulders argue.

Fuck, he wants you. But he knows you’ve been drinking. And he would never put you in this position and knows how much he would hate himself if you woke up the next day regretting your drunk self’s impulsive decision.

“Don’t do that to me, fuck. I won’t be able to resist. I want to take you out first. You deserve to be taken out on a date first,” he says, running his hands through his hair. You get up and walk towards him. “Several dates. Shit.”

“You still can. But, you know, after you fuck me*.*” Feeling confident, you take another step closer to him. And then another. Until you are pressed up against his chest, listening to his heartbeat as your lips hover over his neck. Finally, his hand grabs the side of your face, pulling you in before he unleashes his lips onto yours. Teeth, tongue, and all.

“This is wrong. This is so wrong.” He moans after pushing you up against his closed bedroom door, “Are you sure? Are you drunk?” You roll your eyes.

“Stop trying to talk me out of this,” you whisper while leaving wet kisses along his jawline. You’ve waited too long. There’s no way in hell you’re stopping now. Lifting your head and looking into his eyes, you continue, “I didn’t drink that much. I want this. I want you.”

He groans and presses his lips into yours yet again. “I swear this wasn’t my intention,” he says after pulling back.

You kiss him hard, but your quick attempt to shut him up doesn’t work.

“I promise it wasn’t,” he blurts, “I was just being honest, you know the rules of the game.” He pulls you close again as his lips flutter around your neck, causing an airy sigh to escape from your parted ones.

“No more talking. Please.” You pull his face back up and let his lips harshly reattach to yours. He proceeds to kiss you, slowing down when you try to speed things up.

“I just need you to know that I didn’t plan for this to happen,” he repeats.

“Taehyung!” You whine as your eyes tell him to stop worrying about it, “Shut up and kiss me.”

“I need to hear you say it. I need to make sure I’m not dreaming.”

You pull back slightly from his embrace to tug your shirt off, “Tae please,“ you beg between kisses, the slick from your heat seeping through your thin underwear, "Just fuck me already.”

And just like that, the switch in his mind flips.

Taehyung wastes no time lifting you, bringing your clothed center up against his. You moan into his mouth feeling his hardness pressing into you through his jeans.

Your senses tingle, from the way his hands are holding your jaw, how his scent encompasses you, the roughness of hips grinding against yours, and finally - from the way his kisses deepen with urgency as he carries you back over to his unmade bed.

Once there, he leans you down gently before hovering over your body, letting his hands run along your hips as they make their way to the front of your pants. His fingers tease the skin alongside the waistline of your checkered jeans as he frantically works to undo them, pulling them and your panties off simultaneously.

Your eyes meet as his hand slides slowly up the inside of your legs, right up to your center. One of your hands covers your mouth as his fingers weave their way through your dewy folds, and dive deep into your core.

He grins wolfishly as they curl with each small thrust into you, and soft mewls pour out from your parted mouth. “That’s it, let me hear you,” he praises as his fingers continue their divine torture.

“Oh my god, Tae,” you cry out, reaching for him as his fingers quicken. “Closer. I need you closer to me,” you pant, grabbing his shirt in the process and ripping it open, giggling unapologetically as you hear the small buttons hit the floor.

His lips close around your earlobe, sucking slightly as his fingers continue gliding in and out of you, “You owe me a new shirt.”

“Consider it payback for the fountain.”

“Payback, shmayback,” he grins while pressing his thumb up against your clit, pulling a gasp from you.

“Oh shut up already and put your mouth somewhere it matters,” you say slyly while non-so-subtly pushing his head down your torso until he understands your intention.

“Yes, ma’am,” he breathes before tasting you. His tongue sliding between your folds is nearly enough to send you spiraling. And as if it isn’t enough already, Taehyung reinserts two fingers into your heat as he laps at your delicate clit, bringing you closer and closer with each lick.

The taste of your sweet center has his rock-hard member twitching in anticipation, but he refuses to rush this. He wants nothing more than for you to come all over his face.

He deserves it.

You deserve it.

Soon enough you’re shaking from your very core as the waves rip through your body. Taehyung presses your hips down as he takes all your body has to offer him.

“Holy shit,” you pant, that was undeniably one of the best orgasms you’ve ever had.

He releases your center with a loud smacking sound and leaves delicate kisses on the inside of each of your thighs, admiring the goosebumps he causes on your velvety soft skin, before moving upward to reattach his lips to yours in a sweet, yet needy, embrace.

Taehyung wraps his arms around you to unclasp your bra while you catch your breath, giving special attention to the soft mounds now held in his hands. Your fingers twist through his hair as his tongue decides to flick one of your nipples before covering it entirely with his mouth. He swirls his tongue around them slowly and gently biting down just enough to hold the hardened nub between his teeth.

“Mmm, I want you,” he whispers, working to undo his own pants this time.

You breathe heavily, “I want-,” the rest of the words caught in your throat as you take in his length. You never expected him to be lacking in that area, but he definitely is larger than what you had anticipated.

“Like what you see?” he smirks, rather enjoying how you gape at him.

“Yes.”

Taehyung swallows hard; your honesty turns him on even more, if that’s possible.

“First things first,” he says, pulling away to grab a condom from his nightstand. You stop him.

“No, I want to feel you. All of you.”

He looks at you quizzically.

“I have an IUD, there’s nothing to worry about. Unless this is your way of telling me you’ve got…something?”

His eyes burn into yours, and he growls “No condom then,” quickly shutting down your question.

Grabbing your hips and holding them in place, Taehyung runs the head of his cock through your damp folds, then slaps your center with his throbbing tip, teasing you once more before he sinks deep into you without another thought.

Watching the way your lower stomach fills out as he pushes all the way into you only adds fuel to his fire. Right now, in this single instant, he owns you. And he’s going to make sure you know it.

Your fingernails dig into his biceps while he stretches you out in the most perfect way, gasping when he quickly removes himself and slams back into you.

“Oh fuck,” he moans, “You feel so good baby, so much better than I could have ever dreamed.”

You wrap your legs around his hips, pulling him in deeper if it’s even possible. Taehyung shifts his weights and thrusts into you at a new angle, one that practically makes you see stars.

“Right there, yes. Yes!”

Biting into his shoulder when it becomes almost too much, you use your legs and push on his chest to flip him over so you’re on top, riding him at your own naughty pace.

Taehyung’s hands rest on your hips as you glide on top of him. His thrown-back head and mouthful of colorful words should be enough to prove how much he’s loving this, how much he’s loving you.

But as much as he adores watching your beautiful face twisting and turning with pleasure from below, and your perfect tits bouncing with each swift movement of your hips, he needs to be in charge right now before he loses his mind this early into the long night that awaits you both.

Whipping you around, he hovers over top of your backside and pulls your ass up against him. “Tell me you’ve never had better,” he demands while wrapping an arm around your waist as he pounds into you again from the new position. “Tell me how much you’ve needed me and my cock,” he growls into your ear with one hand moving up towards your neck.

Words are impossible at this point, your head is spinning with too many thoughts of how wonderful you feel and how hot he is in bed.

“Tell me!” he says again, gripping your neck tighter, his long fingers wrapping around your jawline.

“N-no one’s cock is better than yours,” you gasp, his pace picking with your obedience to answer just how he wanted. “No one’s,” you repeat, your eyes rolling back into your head as your insides start to coil.

He releases his hand from your neck and you forget about its whereabouts until there’s a sharp sting on your ass, that’s when you realize the sound that echoes through the room is from his hand cracking against your cheeks. “Mmm, again,” you beg, loving the after effects his spanks have on your body.

Taehyung doesn’t have to be told twice and marks you again, softly massaging the area where his red handprint remains afterward.

Your heated breaths blend as your bodies dance together on the edge, waiting to fall into perfect bliss. He flips you over one last time, wanting to face you as you come undone around him.

Taehyung leans over and nuzzles into your neck, letting his senses take over his body as he pulls you closer and closer toward white, hot pleasure.

“Oh my god!” you scream as the coil deep inside you finally snaps, sending electric sparks through your body.

Taehyung could have died and gone to heaven feeling your insides spasm and clench around him. He grits his teeth as he pumps his seed deep inside you.

His body weight falls on top of yours, energy totally spent.

You find yourself drifting off to the sound of his breathing that matches yours, and fall into a light slumber with your bodies still entwined.

The sound of sirens abruptly awakens you. Rubbing your heavy eyelids, the room flashes between red and blue as the police car lights shine through Taehyung’s second-story windows. You try to sit up but are pulled down by a heavy arm.

“Mmmm,” Taehyung mutters beside you, “Party’s crashed, it’ll quiet down again in a sec once everyone’s out.” His raspy voice tickles your neck and his hand slides down your side, resting on your hip.

A loud crashing sound followed by mumbling voices and footsteps moving outside his door wakes Taehyung up more.

“Everyone out besides residents. Time to go home!” an officer yells in the distance, and more footsteps echo as the house empties.

He sits up and listens, falling back down into bed next to you when he hears the familiar sound of the squad car door closing and driving off to find the next college party to bust.

Thinking it’s probably time to leave yourself, you reach for your shirt that’s hanging from the desk chair near his bed.

“What are you doing?”

“Isn’t it time for me to go?”

“No.” He leans on a bent arm, the other reaching for you to pull you back into his warm embrace. “Do you want to go?”

“No,” you breathe.

“Then stay,” he whispers before kissing you again.

The rest of your late night together is soft and sensual, filled with loving gazes, slow movements, and shallow panting as you lay together as one.

You find yourself getting lost in his touch, every nerve in your body blazes with pure passion this time.

Taehyung whispers your name and wraps your hands in his, pulling them up above your head.

Each roll of his hips draws silky moans from your parted lips. Heat radiates from where hands gently grip your thighs as you writhe beneath him.

You claw at his back, completely and utterly lost in the pleasure as you take the plunge into another mind-blowing orgasm.

He loves how your body reacts to his touch. He loves how you squeeze around his cock, quivering uncontrollably around him as he finds his own wonderful release.

He pushes into you once more before letting himself go. Your head swirls as he fills you with his seed, while your heart pounds to the same rhythm as his.

Taehyung’s pace slows as you tremble around him, he finds it hard to quit thrusting. He doesn’t want to forget this, doesn’t want to waste a moment where he’s not buried deep inside you.

You feel the same way, feeling full in more ways than one, and your heart flutters when you make this realization. Taehyung completes you.

Once his breath returns to its normal rate, he pulls out slowly and watches in admiration as his seed leaks out from your center, dripping between your folds.

He freezes with his eyes glued to the mess he created inside of you, wanting to burn this image into his memory forever.

Taehyung gives in to his sudden urge and uses the pad of his thumb to massage your sensitive heat. Sensually, he pushes the remaining cream back into you, wanting it to stay inside you forever.

He eventually lays back down and pulls you on top of him, the exhaustion starting to set in. His lips leave precious kisses along your cheeks, jawline, and neck before attaching to yours. He sighs contently and rests his hands on the curve of your lower back, satisfied with the way your body conforms perfectly against his.

You lay there, enjoying the blissful moment until you take in what just happened. You have no regrets, Taehyung was everything. But your head is still spinning as thoughts like ‘what does this mean’ and ‘where do we stand now’ float through your brain.

Your heart rate picks up as you start to feel a small sense of panic take over. You need to clear your head and clean yourself properly. A shower. That’ll help.

You’re sweaty, sticky, and still covered in a combination of yours and his cum, yet Taehyung refused to let you roll off of him, "Stay, you’re warm.”

“I’m gross, and I could use a shower,” you say, glancing at him, “if that’s okay…”

“Yeah, absolutely,” he nods as you move off of him. He gets up, presumably grabbing you some clothes. He digs around in his dresser before pulling out a pair of clean sweatpants and a t-shirt. “Here, and there’s the bathroom.” He says pointing to the door that’s to the left of the bed, “Make sure you lock the other door, it’s attached to Yoongi’s room. I’ll join you in a few.” There’s a sudden skip in your heart as you watch him slip his jeans back on and lean down to kiss your cheek. Biting down a creeping smile, you give him one final wave before leaving his room.

Taehyung heads downstairs to grab a glass of water. The party is long over now after the bust and he steps around empty cups scattered down the steps.

As he makes the turn into the kitchen and reaches for a glass, to say that he was surprised to be greeted by Jimin and his know-it-all face would be a straight-faced lie. Exhaling, he closes the cabinet door.

“Don’t even say it,” Taehyung warns. He has more important things to listen to than Jimin’s ‘I told you so’s’.

"Say what? I have no idea what you mean…” he smirks. “Okay I lied, I told you! I totally told you she was into you. You’re welcome by the way.”

It takes Taehyung a few seconds to comprehend where his friend is going with that.

“Oh my god! I should have known. You purposely gave me her piece of paper during the game!”

“I don’t know what you��re talking about. Don’t you have someone waiting?”

“You think you’re so sneaky, don’t you?”

He grins coyly, “Maybe just a little bit.”

Feeling the sunshine’s warmth on your skin wakes you up at daybreak. You stretch and snuggle back into the cozy bed. Taehyung is still snoring softly beside you, unbothered by the sound of the birds awakening.

You admire his face as he sleeps, while memories of your steamy shower late last night drift through your mind. He took extra care of you, washing your body head to toe, massaging your scalp as he shampooed your hair, and leaving warm kissing on your skin after drying you off. Of course, that was all after he held you against the glass wall of his shower and did more sinful things to your writhing body. Shuddering as you remember the filthy things he whispered to you while doing those things.

You ignore the heat pooling between your legs from the recollections of Taehyung’s long fingers and where he put them, among other things, and internally groan instead realizing you need to make your escape now before the rest of the house wakes. Before you’re caught.

And if Sana stayed over too, you’ll never hear the end of it.

The walk of shame is not something people typically look forward to, especially when you’re leaving a frat house of all places. It’s a double-shame kind of moment.

You have one leg over him and are almost able to touch the floor to make your great escape.

Taehyung peeks between his barely parted eyelashes and smiles slyly at how unaware you are. His arms close around you quickly just as your foot skims the floor, immediately pulling you against him so your face is only a mere couple of inches away from his.

“And where, pray tell, do you think you’re going?” he says with a gruff morning voice that sends another wave of heat to your center. Your cheeks flush pink as you squirm, feeling his morning wood along your thigh.

"Oh, um. Hi-”

“Oh don’t do that.”

“Do what?” you ask as you try to wiggle out of his arms, but his iron grip doesn’t allow for that.

“Acting all shy. Nuh-uh. Not allowed. Not after last night,” he announces, tugging you in for a quick kiss while his fingers tickle your side, which causes you to wriggle against him even more.

He lets out a groan and his hips involuntarily buck up into yours. That’s when you really feel him.

It’s your turn to grin wolfishly. “Oh, sorry about that,” you taunt as you press your center down onto him again and circle slowly before sitting up on your knees, leaving him between your legs wanting more contact, needing more of you.

“Fuck, you can’t just grind on me and then stop, baby. Please keep going,” he begs as he juts his hips up looking for some kind of friction.

Taehyung stills and moans uncontrollably as you palm his hardening length through the fabric of his sweatpants, and it’s nearly enough to make him see stars when you reach inside to feel him.

His voice shudders when you pull him out from the waistband of his pants. Your pointer finger glides along his satiny skin, across the vein popped out from your touch, and up to his tip to wipe the small, white dribble away.

“Ready so soon? Thought you’d be spent after last night,” you tease, knowing very well he’ll pounce on you at any moment once given the okay. He watches in awe as you bring your finger up to your lips to lick it clean.

“Mmmm,” you hum, “maybe I should take another taste first…” You bend down to lick along his length this time.

“Oh god,” he grunts, his husky voice full of desire.

Taehyung thanks the universe for not coming undone the second your sweet mouth encompasses his length. He pushes the hair out of your face so he can watch you bob up and down, your hands covering the lower part of his shaft that won’t fit in your mouth.

You press down into him as far as your body lets you, swallowing his hugeness with pride.

His hand grips your hair to your head still as he moves inside you. Slowly at first, not wanting to hurt you, but picking up the pace nonetheless, loving how you choke around him.

He pulls out of your mouth and you gasp for air, drool dripping uncontrollably from your swollen lips.

“Open,” he rasps, holding back until he’s able to place his throbbing head on your tongue and shoots his release into your throat with a loud moan.

His body trembles as the tip of your tongue dances along the underside of his head. He gasps when your lips close around him and you work to suck the rest out of him.

His whole body shudders when you release him, the pain of being overstimulated mixing deliciously with the pleasure you make him feel. He lets out one last breath before collapsing beside you, totally drained.

You lay in bed as the sun rises up high in the sky, holding each other as you talk quietly about whatever crosses your minds, laughing every so often when one of you disagrees with the other, all while you wait to regain the energy to start your day officially.

Meaning it’s nearly noon by the time you crawl out of bed.

“C’mon, I’ll make us something to eat. You like french toast?”

The boys on the sofa ignore you as you walk behind them on your way to the kitchen with Taehyung, or so you think they do.

“Oh yeah, just like that Tae. Oooh,” Yoongi teases once you’re out of the living room, using a girly voice that is supposed to mock yours.

“Fuck, keep going, baby.” Jimin tries to imitate Taehyung but does so very poorly. Still, the overly smug look on his face taunts you childishly.

Taehyung grabs something out of the fruit bowl and whips it at them. “Go fuck yourself with that damn banana Jimin,” he hollers, muttering curses under his breath.

Awkwardly, Jimin picks up the banana that hits him in the back of the head and frowns, “Way to ruin bananas for me. Thanks.”

“As if that’s gonna stop you,” Seokjin laughs as he comes down the steps, joining the conversation. Jimin scowls. Namjoon loses it on the recliner, laughing so hard he’s not making a single sound, which in turn causes everyone to laugh with him.

“Don’t mind them, they’ve clearly lost too many brain cells,” he tells you after lifting you onto the counter next to his workstation. He turns to grab the ingredients he needs out of the fridge, and you realize with a sense of adoration, you could get used to this.

©shadowkoo 2023. All rights reserved.

#kvanity #kim taehyung #taehyung #taehyung x reader #kth x reader #taehyung x you #kth x you #fratboy!taehyung #taehyung smut #taehyung e2l #taehyung au #taehyung oneshot #kth oneshot #kth fanfic #taehyung fanfic #taehyung fic #kth fic #v oneshot #v fic #v fanfic #v smut #bts oneshot #bts smut #bts fic #bts fanfic

[katapotato55]

Deltarune theory: Kris, Noelle, and Ralsei (Kris may not hate Ralsei THAT much) and other misc theories.

obviously spoilers for Deltarune up to chapter 2 and some of the Spamton sweepstakes. play the game it's free on steam. also this is a little bit long and contains a lot of screenshots. Not a huge amount of text walls I am just crazy. more info after the cut.

(credit to the deltarune wiki for these screenshots) So a common theory is that the health gained from the tea represents how close emotionally characters are to each other. If a character does not know someone else, the tea appears as nothing, such as Noelle having no reaction to the Ralsei tea, since at that point in the game they never met. People often use this as an implication that Kris does not like ralsei very much. but here is the thing that gets me:

Kris seems to get damn near the same amount of HP from Noelle as they do Ralsei. and that is confusing... because aren't they supposed to be childhood friends? meanwhile Susie used to bully Kris as implied by the Spamton sweepstakes... and yet Susie's tea gives Kris the MOST health out of all of them. not to mention Noelle seems to share the same amount of health return, but doesn't hate the tea either. What on earth is going on here?

The Theory (s?)

The unfun theory: The health means absolutely nothing. Personally I don't like this theory if you couldn't tell already. The spicy friendship theory: Kris doesn't hate Ralsei THAT MUCH, they are just uneasy about them. Alternatively: Kris probably just gets along better with someone like Susie than someone like Ralsei. The climax in every children's movie ever theory: before the events of Deltarune, something happened that made Kris upset at Noelle and it harmed their relationship. (possibly something to do with Des) The BFFSBSROFL (no that acronym does not stand for anything) theory : kris actually gels SO well with susie that they are basically best friends, making Noelle and Ralsei look pathetic in comparison. Alternatively, Kris and Susie have a much deeper history that the Spamton Sweepstakes left out. Alternatively: it could also be that Susie is the first strong friendship Kris has had in a very long time and they are in the honeymoon phase of their friendship. The shippers wet dream theory: Kris has a thing for Susie after the events of ch 1 and is jealous of Noelle. (I claim no financial responsibility for whatever the fuck the shipping part of the fandom may do with this potential bit of information.) The "my parent's friend's kids" theory: Kris never really was that close to Noelle to begin with, Its just that the Dreemur family and the Holiday family go way back and Kris being a kid was just in the middle of it. These are the theories I have so far, let me know if you guys have anything more interesting.

Other things to mention

The Laser prank. During that scene with Noelle with chapter 2, the player finds a switch that requires the player and Noelle to press a button and let each other through the laser barrier. as a player you can suddenly jump off the button before noelle passes as a joke. however, if you go too far and do it right when Noelle is too close to the laser:

you almost hurt Noelle (but she is ok) and then she pulls the same prank on Kris. then:

If you don't go too far with the prank, Noelle simply says "nice teamwork" and you continue on. This is interesting to me for many reasons. here is a few theories I have listed: 1-Kris actually was hurt (unlikely because their HP was not lowered and the player did not touch the laser) 2- Kris actually DOES care about Noelle and is horrified the player almost hurt her 2.5- Or perhaps Kris does care about Noelle and is horrified she did the prank back at them as serious as the laser was. Perhaps Kris has weird feelings about abandonment and self love considering their parents divorce and all that has been going on in this game 3- Kris is just being petty and immature that they got pranked right back. 4- Kris is potentially mis-reading the situation thinking that the player and Noelle are somehow against Kris, when in reality both the player and Noelle are just playing around. Remember that Kris is a young teenager going through a rough patch at home, so it makes sense they are on edge about this kind of thing. 5- I am reading way too deep into this bit.

The Boat Picture with Ralsei listen man. Its no secret Ralsei resembles Asriel. hell there is a STRONG implication that Ralsei is actually Kris's childhood red horns headband considering Ralsei also has red horns.

here is the bit that gets to me sometimes: Later on in Ch 2, you are on a boat ride with ralsei and a photo booth. you have the option to Hug Ralsei, show a peace sign in the wrong direction, or commit cultural appropriation against Berdly in particular (my favorite option yes i am very mature)

why does this sit with me? well-

First: daawwww asgoooooreeee second: what does this mean- there are so many implications, Again i am just going to list theories and speculation: 1- Kris does not appreciate the gremlin that looks suspiciously like their older brother and how said gremlin may be crushing on them, along with the player pushing that along. enough said. 2- Kris is OK with hugs, they just don't like it when their dad gives them a massive cuddly bear hug. 3- kris is being an angsty teen acting like they are too good for hugs. 4- Again I am probably overthinking it and Kris actually does not hate hugs (or hugging ralsei) that much. Overall, I think Kris Kross Applesauce's real problem is less about the hugging and the pranking of Noelle, but rather something deeper. behold!

THE OMEGA THEORY

Kris just wants agency over their own life. It isn't that deep really. It is implied that Kris... honestly doesn't like themselves very much and doesn't like being human. The fact they never grew horns growing up and wore plastic horns all the time was probably the first time Kris felt like an outsider, and all they wanted to do was to be like their family. and now their parents are divorced Their older brother has been off for university and can only come back on certain occasions Sans Undertale is probably fucking their mom (or sans is just messing with you because sans is a hilarious asshole) Kris probably has trauma from whatever happened to December Holiday (which has not been revealed yet other than Spamton sweepstakes hinting) And now, Kris appears to be possessed by SOMETHING. and who the hell knows what and who is posessing kris. it could be you the player doing that or perhaps the player IS kris and that the thing possessing kris is what threw the player in the cage or more. we don't know yet But the thing i know most is that all Kris just wants is to have more control over their own life. Hell considering the implication that Ralsei is the manifestation of Kris's childhood headband, perhaps Ralsei represents a part of who Kris wishes they were. either way It doesn't matter if the player messes with Noelle or hugs Kris's friend that uncomfortably resembles their brother Kris just wants it to be THEIR decision rather than the decision of an omnipotent god that has a strange affliction for hyper-analyzing their life to make an overly-produced Tumblr post. thank you for reading my crap.

#deltarune #deltarune chapter 2 #deltarune chapter two #ralsei #kris deltarune #kris dreemurr #noelle holiday #deltarune susie #deltarune theory #deltarune speculation #pc gaming #gaming #theory #theories #media analysis #deltarune fandom #deltarune kris #deltarune noelle #deltarune ralsei

[kaurwreck]

Whatcha think of how Mori is depicted by Asagiri? People are always mad about it, so I do wonder your own opinion of it.

I think Kafka Asagiri is cheeky and clever, but I'm not very objective about his choices because I knew next to nothing when I first began watching the anime, and researching complex, multidisciplinary, and context-laden subject matter about which I have very little prior knowledge is something I love doing so much that I've made it my career and most of my hobbies. I'm very, very easily delighted by layers I can sink my teeth into, and I get immense satisfaction (i.e., a lot of dopamine) from untangling patterns, recognizing references, and exploring contours I hadn't initially noticed by deepening my contextual knowledge.

The rush I get from learning means that engaging from a starting place of near total ignorance and then retroactively piecing together more information ensures I'm continously starry eyed and dazzled by the depth I'm perceiving. But I'm an American reader who was entirely unfamiliar with the Japanese literary references or relevant Japanese history prior to watching the anime or reading the manga, and I'm piecing together context from limited English-language resources. So, much of what I'm getting a rush out of learning for the first time is likely common knowledge to the native Japanese audience. It's easy to think that the water is deep when you first jump in and can't touch the ground.

For an example of how my unfamiliarity manifests as bias: I love Fitzgerald as an antagonist and then uneasy ally, and I enjoy that Fitzgerald's skill manifests as green light. But I've already chewed his themes and source material references to bits, having studied the Great Gatsby and its period-relevance re: the disillusionment of the jazz age in high school. I was already familiar with the significance of the green light to Fitzgerald's relationship with wealth and how it enchants him such that he becomes so obsessed with its hazy distortion of his dreams that he forgets himself. I liked how the anime and manga both interpret the green light, and I especially like how the green light wraps around his body, lightly paralleling Chuuya's Corruption runes and thus tinting Fitzgerald's skill with the suggestion of possession/loss of control.

But although it's a lot of fun to trace those familiar patterns in a novel interpretation, it can't compare to the thrill I felt when I belatedly realized that Vita Sexualis isn't erotica but instead a skeptical reflection on sex and the purported objectivity of naturalism; or when I learned that irl!Mori was the most girl dad to ever girl dad. With Mori, my expectations were subverted, Mori's character became brilliantly nuanced where he was flat to me before, and I felt the same rush of pleasure as if I was made privy to an inside joke. Fitzgerald felt comparatively like rediscovering a favorite blanket buried in the back of my closet; warm and fond, but not gripping or perspective-shifting. (Unlike when I first read the Great Gatsby, and thought it saturated in clever and well wrought commentary that complicated my prior feelings and prompted me to grapple with my own sources of green light.)

In other words, I don't have any objectivity here for the same reason I shouldn't be trusted regarding how badly any of my tattoos hurt. I remember vaguely that they did, but the process flooded me with enough endorphins that the edges of my memories are blunted and tinted rose.

So, to actually answer your question, I think Kafka Asagiri's depiction of Mori is brilliant and witty and subversive, layered with insight into the blurred lines between love and imperative, fear and intuition. I think Mori is emotionally wrought but manicured with pathological attenuation, which renders his bursts of passion all the more compelling. He's also funny and silly and horrifying in how his levity only ornaments and never softens the weight and gravitas of his presence.

I used to feel like Kafka Asagiri's suggestive playfulness regarding Mori was in bad taste, given the severity of the implications. I don't anymore; Kafka Asagiri is hardly as irreverent as academic commentary on Mori Ogai's medical legacy regarding beriberi or Mari Mori's love for him. I wouldn't enjoy Mori nearly as much if he were reduced to an easily digested archetype or caricature without any of the dissonance that humanizes him.

I also can't take seriously my own first impressions of Mori's character either; I've rewatched and reread bsd several times over, and I can't recall the narrative ever affirming or validating my initial presumptions. I reacted rather than engaged, which is fine as an instinct, but I certainly shouldn't conflate it with analysis.

But, as I said, I'm not objective about bsd. I think Kafka Asagiri is brilliant and fun and thoughtful. I think Mori is a watermelon full of hamburger meat that I love gnawing. I think bsd is the greatest thing since sliced bread. Carthago delenda est.

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bsd mori

[djsherriff-responses]

warning captain laserhawk spoilers and topics of grooming and incest

I was sketching out a possible funny comic (idk if I’ll finish, motivation zig zags) regarding that one scene of Jade and Pey’J , where Jade argues wirh Pey’J about it , as a “hahaha omg wasn’t that really messed up?” But than I thought:

“wow, if this show wasn’t cramming so much into 6 episodes and Jade wasn’t fridged, this would be an incredibly interesting but horrific plot thread to follow through”

We know from the official Eden site that Pey’J knew Jade since infancy and the show makes it a point he promised on her parents’ grave to protect her , which makes his confession in having romantic feelings for her all the more disgusting

I never played BGE, and I really wanna like him since I read he is a better (not into incest with kids he raised as his own) character in game , but I was actually kinda glad he died because I kept thinking of all the weird implications his love confession has, such as what were (or are depending on if he and Jade come back in season 2) the writers planning with that?

Like, the writers knew we didn’t have much time with these characters and so knew there wasn’t much time to see the depth of the relationship Jade has with Pey’J, so why make their last conversation Pey’J outting himself as someone attracted to his own niece?

I seen most people say it was a joke, which is just an odd thing to do when that moment could’ve easily been used to share more of Jade and Pey’J’s history and familiar bond with each other, thus make Jade’s death far more impactful than just “god I can’t believe that was their last conversation”. You could’ve still made that moment funny and awkward without incest!

A possibility (one which I’m dreading could happen if they come back in season 2) is that they genuinely wanted to have Pey’J and Jade together romantically , which is just …. Yikes, really yikes. Obviously as of writing this post we don’t know the writers’ intentions or the purpose of that scene in the larger narrative (if it even has one). I know that Alex is old enough to be Dolph’s dad but we can agree actual incest in the story of Laserhawk would be pushing it, right? (Or at least get characters with personalities and dynamic where that sort of situation would make sense!)

TBH I feel like that moment could’ve actually worked (or at least offer some interesting story stuff), if Pey’J was the one who died in episode two instead of Jade

(This part is more hopeful thinking what be the writers’ intentions than anything, tbh feel free to use this part as fanfic inspiration)

Think about it, Jade’s bio says she’s got a natural talent at reading people and makes it a career to haunt down the scum of Eden (like Pagan Min)

Which would make it all the more incredibly horrifying for her to learn her uncle was attracted to her

If Pey’J was the one died after telling her he found her attractive, Jade’s entire world and perspective of her life would be shattered, and she’d basically be left to pick up the pieces. All the sweet childhood memories she had with Pey’J would be tainted now, she’d question so much of her self and be haunted by the possibility Pey’J may be a groomer

and than…..wait….

Do Dolph and Bullfrog know about the incest?!

Like Sarah knows because she definitely overheard that conversation

Did Pey’J ever bring up he got a boner over his niece to his fellow ghosts before he died? Did Sarah tell Dolph and Bullfrog? Did the two get weird vibes from the sweet home Alabama pig man?

God , what were the writers thinking adding incest to this show?!

#captain laserhawk #captain laserhawk spoilers #Tw incest #tw grooming #Beyond good and evil #Apparently there was nothing of this nature in game so this really did come out the writers’ asses #I know this is a remixed universe but I’m sure theres other Ubisoft characters who pull the incest crap off better if incest had to be in #BGE fans feel free to add onto this

[ashanimus]

I've been working on an essay about Puritans and Belos and sandy history around Belos' shit, but there's another one building up inside me at the same time that fixates on Darius and how much he might have known, and his relationship to Hunter's immediate predecessor. What he thought of him. How much he admired him. The following may be stupid obvious but dammit I got really excited thinking about it okay.

Darius is a deeply talented and very skilled magical practitioner. He's the head of arguably the most OP coven. It's likely he was a strong child too, someone whose potential was recognized. Someone with a "bright future ahead of him". But when he's describing his mentor as "One of the strongest witches I've ever known," I'm 100% certain he wasn't describing magical prowess.

HUNTER is the one who brings up magic in an attempt to defend himself.

"Belos says I don't need magic to server the coven."

"And I say: you don't deserve to wear that patch."

Darius admired his mentor's character. His moral conviction perhaps, his rebellious heart regardless of circumstance (It's the same heart Hunter possesses but until ASIAS it's beat would have been invisible to Darius). This is the kind of heart that might inspire lethal rebellion in kid Darius--that he would grow up into man a stealthy but actively resisting a fascist, murderous tyrant who killed his mentor. Not just for any personal revenge, but because he should. Because he CAN help. He CAN resist. So he must.

How galling, how painful, how hideous it would have been to see some kid with no name made Golden Guard. A brainwashed child kneeling at the feet of a man who is clearly treating this investiture as a sick joke. Everyone would see that. Lilith is gone, and the bureaucratic hassle of a new actual coven head is obviously something the Emperor is choosing not to bother with so close to the Day of Unity. But Darius would see, once that mask came off and he's seeing that nose, those earnest pink eyes and that dumb forelock the face of his dead teacher--and that of a child is serious emotional, mental and physical danger. He becomes a perfect little golden soldier, a shiny doormat, a scarred up little punching bag who takes it and takes it and takes it. And Darius, unable to do shit about it at the moment.

It's an insult to his teacher's memory. It's bitter and hateful to watch while he's trying to learn more about the horrifying details spurring Raine's rebellion. Keep the kid out of it.

And when Hunter shows resistance and meets this half-assed test Darius threw his way without thinking too hard about it with that familiar conviction. A candle of the strength Darius remembered out of his mentor. And god damn it, now its his turn to at least help that along.

He can. So he must.

#toh #the owl house #toh spoilers #darius deamonne #toh hunter #I almost asked #what was Darius' mentor like I wonder #the answer is obvious of course but #gah! #the thing that follows all the grimwalkers is the big stupid heart and moral conviction

[immortalconclusions]

Thoughts on Episode 1 of Interview with the Vampire (2022)

Hi there it's me ya boy immortal_conclusions.

It's been a long ride waiting for this show to come out. When it was announced a year and a half ago, my reaction was one of joy and then trepidation. "Hope for the best, expect the worst." That moment spawned hours and days and months of what the worst (and least academically inclined, I might add) among us called "intellectual debate" in this fandom, most of which was horrifying flaming garbage that most of you know about and that I won't get into here. As someone who remained optimistic throughout that time of uncertainty and tried to uplift voices of other people of color, it's been a long road. In the past year and a half I've written boatloads of fic, made dear friendships, burned friendships with others. A few months ago, I almost stopped writing and almost quit this fandom. I'm so glad I didn't, and today proves why.

"For the first time in my life, I was seen." - Louis de Pointe du Lac, Interview with the Vampire (2022)

This episode was, in a word, perfection. It was gut wrenching, gorgeous, brutal, and devastatingly sad. The framing device was using sparingly and effectively, and the pacing was magnificent. I almost didn't breathe throughout that entire ending sequence. It was a trainwreck hurtling towards its inevitable conclusion. It was overwhelming, dramatic, heartbreaking...everything it should have always been. The amount of respect and homage to canon was more than I'd ever expected.

I am not afraid to say this: they elevated and went beyond the source material.

The way they centered Louis' very human, very real struggles was so poignant and effective. Jacob Anderson portrayed his rage and his guilt and his white-knuckled repression with virtuosity. Louis is filled with guilt over the condemnation of his brother to a world which would never accept him, his homosexuality, immorality of his exploitive profession and the way it betrays his family and his race and his history. He is a man defined by his guilt, imprisoned by lies, and damned by cowardice.

"Bless me father, for I have sinned. Grievously sinned. I'm a drunk, Lord. I am a liar. I am a thief, Lord. I profit off the miseries of other men and I do it easy. Drugs, liquor, women. I lure them in and grab what they got, Lord. I take daughters with no homes and I put 'em out on the street, Lord, and I lie to myself, saying I'm giving them a roof and food and dollar bills in their pocket, but I look in the mirror, I know what I am -- the big man in the big house stuffing cotton in my ears so I can't hear their cries. And Lord I dragged my whole family into this mess with me. I shamed my father. I failed my brother. I lost my mother and sister, and rather than fix it like a man should, Lord, I run. Like a coward. I run to the bottle, I run to the grift, I run to bad beds. I laid down with a man. I laid down with The Devil. And he has roots in me. All his spindly roots in me, and I can't think nothing anymore but his voice and his words. Please, help me!"

This really got to me. That is Louis right there. That is the unfettered essence of his character. JA's performance was magnificent. (Jacob Anderson IS Louis de Pointe du Lac and I will never see him any other way.) This passage reminded me of what a genius Anne was to create this character that nobody ever had before, a character that has captured hearts and minds since. It was mainlining Louis straight into my soul.

Suffice to say, this was more than I'd ever hoped and imagined. I can't even begin to scratch the surface on some of the themes here and how much they mean to me, because I'm overwhelmed right now. This series that I've loved and grown so attached to, adapted in such a faithful and thoughtful way. Carrying all the themes through and transforming them into something even better than the original. I have a whole new appreciation for the source material that I never had before. I am floored and no joke this has restored my fucking faith in humanity. Literally. I am not even kidding about that. We all deserve to be seen. We all deserve to have the stories that are meaningful to us told and shared and loved. Today, we won.

#interview with the vampire #iwtv #amc’s interview with the vampire #amc iwtv #vc #vampire chronicles #louis de pointe du lac #jacob anderson

[rassilon-imprimatur]

Long rambling post but. I haven’t rewatched The Trial of a Time Lord as a whole in years, and I dunno, it’s hard to separate from all the behind the scenes crap and my eyes kind’ve glaze over once we get into the Pip and Jane Extravaganza, but... 

The Gallifreyan space station, the music, a sense of weight and gravitas to the power of Gallifrey that haunts and remains (even if the actual set and courtroom scenes are less striking). The Time Lords as the ever-faithful watchers of the Doctor’s adventures through the Matrix, the constant focus on the Inquisitor as the only woman amongst the dusty, sleepy, impassive Lords. “A Merry Christmas to all of you at home” now wrought actual lore, the Doctor’s life accessible to Gallifreyan TV. 

The Mysterious Planet as the show’s “Past,” what the show used to be. Holmes, of course, The Krotons pulled through Full Circle, State of Decay, but that lingering chill of Bidmeadism is more melancholy. Wetter, colder. The forest, the costumes, look of the Tribe of the Free, it’s all more hauntingly fantasy than ever before, overtop the plastic tunnels and trundling BBC props. But it’s the Past as an untouchable “gone before its time, gone too soon, hold onto it or its gone,” the Doctor and Peri at their most ideal snapshot. From Holmes’ previous take on the Fourth Doctor as a mid-life crisis bohemian loom to this, the Doctor in the prime of his life, not a single bite of venom or a bad bone, wearing his hearts on his sleeve, joyful and smart and pompous because of his love of life and experience. Peri gets compared to Sarah Jane, and it’s hard to deny the ache of “this is so familiar” to she and he’s friendship, banter, love and worry for each other’s safety. The Holmes comedy act of Glitz and Dibber, the continued ideas of human persistence, of revolution for the right causes, of the universe’s worst oppressors being comical robots. HG Wells’ Morlocks and Eloi. The Earth’s history broken and interrupted, Ravolox a glaring shift in the universal continuity the show was so beholden by not a season ago (look at Attack!). Something is deeply wrong, frothing under the sad smile of this serial, and that terrifyingly vast station representing Gallifrey’s power feels too connected. 

Mindwarp as “Present,” what the show currently is. Saward and Martin just going full out. More The Twin Dilemma, more Varos, more The Two Doctors, more the Re-Animator gristle and body horror from Revelation of the Daleks. Lynch’s Giedi Prime under the toxic pink sky, the ever-returning caverns and caves sticky under the strobes. It’s hard to deny the sense of perversion through the absurdist humor and world-building, the slime and cruelty soaked in quiet snickers of sex, rape, bodily agency prodded and pulled apart by capitalist slugs. The Doctor’s brain broken, retooled and reduced to his Twin Dilemma and s22 sneer and snide, parodic now only for the point. “This Is The Doctor, This Is What We Have Made Of The Show, Awful Isn’t It?” said almost gleefully. It’s the final bite of everything from Earthshock to Warriors of the Deep to Caves of Androzani and Martin’s own Varos, even as it collapses under its own nasty weight. Peri’s trauma and treatment, finding comfort in something like fucking Brian Blessed because it’s the only thing not trying to hurt her. The final scene, swirling in the Time Lords’ temporal bubble, is legitimately horrifying. Crozier’s distanced and clinical nature going full Davros maniac, ranting and raving of how he would spread this bloated poison to the rest of the universe. Peri’s corpse shouting with demonic relish as Kiv goes from a sinister joke to a full on monstrosity. The universe ravaged and left behind by Logopolis has fully dived into a capitalist nightmare of ooze and neon, and in that horrible swirl of screams, it’s finally all put down, shot, and blown away. Nicola Bryant was right, that should’ve stayed as Peri’s fate. “You killed Peri” the Doctor mournfully says to the Time Lords, the viewers of “the show” that intervened (the very thing they accuse and try him for) for an ending they found better. 

Terror of the Vervoids as an ideal “classic, good old-fashioned” Future, what the show will be or should be. Mel is genuinely an incredible idea for a companion introduction, making her mark after years of unseen adventures. She and the Doctor’s first scene with the exercise back is insanely “Children’s TV Hosts,” moreso than the show ever came close to touching again. A visual backtrack into Graham Williams’ space travel and spaceships, Nightmare of Eden and Horns of Nimon, turning out into The Golden Girls’ breakfast trellis and a lasertag course. And it’s honestly a slog. I get it, not yucking anyone’s yum, but it’s just... too safe, too much retooled and remade, too unambitious, creaking under the colors and tone. Saward’s absurdism presented without darkness, without nasty jokes, and what Pip and Jane set rolling here is what snowballs into the Teletubby feverdream of Time and the Rani. The Doctor is a harmless friend and hero, Mel is a cartoon more than a person. Not for me, but so integral to the narrative decay. The future is just as much of a mess as the present. 

The Ultimate Foe. Holmes’ The Deadly Assassin remake clashing with Saward and JNT’s drama, wrapped in Pip and Jane Pip-n-Janing like their lives depended on it. Some of the most striking surrealism the show had done since the Mara duo and the Black Guardian trilogy, all of it haunted and scary in the shadowed Victorian streets, fighting for life against the courtroom tedium and stroke-serious nonsense everyone announces at each other. The Doctor abandoned the role of the President in the show’s 20th anniversary celebration, and in that void grew a genocidal conspiracy, the Time Lords flexing their cruelty. The Doctor once, on trial, pleaded with them, mentioning the Cybermen and Daleks. Now, on trial, he declares them worse. Holmes’ original ending of the Doctor and Valeyard locked in combat, falling together through the disintegrated Matrix, a cliffhanger vs the finished episode of the Doctor and Mel safely and comfortably leaving to Vervoids’ promised, dull future. Safe, cozy. The Valeyard now so buried in the silly and absurd his threatening laugh just adds to it. 

(Each day that passes, BF Gallifrey making the Inquisitor the most awful goddamn person in this entire franchise becomes more and more absolutely hilarious.) 

#The Trial of a Time Lord #and obviously Cartmel helps spear that weirdness into some really good shit that I think compliments the Saward stuff I really like? #The Mysterious Planet #Mindwarp #Terror of the Vervoids #The Ultimate Foe #Sixth Doctor #The Valeyard #Peri Brown #Mel Bush #long post

[aurorawest]

Reading update:

AHH. So good. I read Timothy Janovsky’s first book in this series, Never Been Kissed, and while I enjoyed it, I didn’t love it. I loved this one. It’s about a spoiled rich boy (the titular Matthew Prince), who gets sent away to the small town where his mother was raised. There, he meets Hector, who also turns out to be his roommate (Hector is staying with Matthew’s grandparents because he can’t afford housing at the university in town). Obviously, Matthew learns to be less selfish and entitled, and he falls in love with Hector, and everything is adorable and wonderful. 5 stars.

This one was...alright. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t great either. Barista and rock star fall in love, overcome obstacles to be together, the standard. The barista is interesting because he’s at university but has a very young daughter with his best friend, because they got drunk and slept together, despite him being fully aware he’s gay. So he’s laser focused on school and work so he can send money back to them and also finish uni on time, so the friend can take her turn with her education. The MC’s posh family is also homophobic, and I always enjoy a good putting-the-homophobic-family-in-their-place scene. The main problem with this book is that it needed better editing. It just could have been a lot tighter. And some of the jokes fell flat, like...I felt like I was kind of missing something? It was probably funnier in Hayden Stone’s head.

This is the second in the Logan, Minnesota series. This one takes place a year after the first and focused on one of the side characters from the first, Arthur. I was...concerned, because it’s made abundantly clear in Let it Snow (the first book) that Arthur is very into BDSM. Since that can be one of my squicks, I was iffy on this book. Also Arthur was obnoxious in the first book. I ended up liking it a lot. Arthur, unsurprisingly, is less obnoxious in his own book, and I really liked Gabriel, the town library who he falls in love with. There are some BDSM elements but quite mild, so it didn’t squick me.

This was more of a novella, about a guy trying to get home for Christmas. A winter storm shuts down flights all across the country, and by the time it occurs to him to rent a car, all the rental cars are gone too...but then the person who got the very last rental car walks up to the desk and it turns out...the main character knows him! They went to high school together, and they clearly have History. A road trip ensues and of course they get together. Considering how short this book was, there was a lot of sex. Which was fine lol. You know, good for them. Again, fine, but not amazing.

Oh, and honestly, I’m pretty sure it’s the same person kissing himself on the cover?? I’ve spent too long staring at it at this point.

Roan Parrish is really turning into one of my favorite authors. I’m asking you to ignore the incredibly cheesy cover and that tagline on it. This book is about a man, Adam, who adopted his sister’s child, and eventually his partner (it’s unclear if they were married) is like, nah, I’m not interested in this. So Adam and his daughter, Gus, return to the town Adam is from—Garnet Run, WY (this is the third in the Garnet Run series). Their neighbor is this weirdo, Wes, who only comes out at night and never talks to anyone. Gus breaks into his house because she sees something interesting and is extremely taken with all his pets, especially his tarantula (Bettie). Adam is obviously horrified by his daughter’s behavior, but Gus can’t take a hint, and she keeps bugging Wes. Adam and Wes obviously end up falling in love.

The ostensible plot of this book is that because Gus is sad about her other dad abandoning her (and he legit does), Adam asks her what she wants for Christmas, and she says for their house to have the most Christmas lights ever. And it’s fine, it works, it causes the wedge between Adam and Wes before their inevitable HEA—but the characters in this book were just, ahhhh. Lovely. I loved them. We got to see Charlie and Rye from the previous book, which was fun, and River, who is Adam’s sibling, had a pretty decent role. Wes’s background and the reason he’s the way he is is pretty sad, but it worked really well, and I loved how enthusiastic and sensitive Adam was. I even loved Gus! A child character! So yeah, I recommend this one. 5 stars.

The third in the Logan, Minnesota series. This one focuses on the third friend in the trio from the first book, Paul. What we mainly know about Paul going into this book is that he was friends with benefits with Arthur, but really, he wanted a relationship—and when it became clear he wasn’t going to get one with Arthur, he moved out of their shared cabin. Turns out Paul is very shy and desperately loves Hallmark holiday movies, because everything turns out okay in the end, and that’s what he wants. He can’t find a man who wants to settle down and also his family is completely horrible and thinks him being gay is a phase (he’s 38).

His love interest is Kyle, who is 25 and has had a crush on Paul since middle school. I love an age gap romance so right away this one kind of became my favorite in the series. There’s a lot of angsting about the age gap at first (by Paul). What I liked a lot about this one was that these two guys really really want to be with someone, and they’re looking for a partner to settle down with. It was a change from the first two books.

Another Roan Parrish novel. This one has actually been in my TBR pile for months, and I didn’t realize it was a holiday book until recently. It’s very different from what she usually writes, but was absolutely gorgeous. Really lyrical and magical. It’s about Alex, a baker, and Corbin, a very strange man who lives in Alex’s Michigan hometown. Corbin is intensely, heartbreakingly lonely, because he’s been told all his life that his family is cursed, and that anyone they fall in love with will die within a year. So he doesn’t let himself get close to anyone.

Highly highly recommend this one. Definitely a 5 star read.

More Fence. Nothing really to say about it, it’s a bunch of pretty, gay boys fencing.

I’m just going to copy my review from Storygraph here, and it does contain spoilers, so if you want to read this book (please don’t, it was so bad), I guess don’t read my review:

Where to begin with this book. I'm a fan of Simmons' work—Hyperion is possibly my favorite book ever, and I really enjoyed the much-maligned The Terror. First off, I actually liked the mountain-climbing detail. Yes, it was long and technical, but that was the strongest part of the book. I probably would have given it a 3.5 star rating if not for the final section. I guess Simmons wanted to write a WWII book and a Mount Everest book, and for some reason he thought it would be a good idea to make them into the same book. The big twist is that a whole bunch of people died (and climbed Mt Everest) for photographic evidence that Hitler had sex with young boys—and we find out in the epilogue that the threat of this getting out stops Hitler from invading the UK in 1941. Absurd. Absolutely absurd. I was actually laughing. This book was written pre-2016, so I guess it wasn't as painfully obvious that people can do horrible things and still rise to and stay in power, but I couldn't suspend my disbelief. Also, Winston Churchill is in it, because of course he is. And Lawrence of Arabia and Charlie Chaplin show up. Why? Who knows! Why not. Literally the only reason I'm giving this book 1 star instead of like, 0.25 stars is because Yetis may have saved the main character from the Nazis.

And this was not in my Storygraph review but I keep thinking about it—if Hitler didn’t want these photos getting out so badly, couldn’t Churchill have, idk, stopped the whole war? And the Holocaust? As my wife put it, Mr Simmons, I am vexed by the gaping plot hole in your novel.

UGH

Current read/palate cleanser:

This is another one set in Logan, MN, but is part of a new series. I haven’t actually started reading it yet but just looking at it is soothing me after reading the trash fire that was The Abominable.

#you're a mean one matthew prince #timothy janovsky #when london snow falls #hayden stone #sleigh ride #heidi cullinan #if only in my dreams #keira andrews #the lights on knockbridge lane #roan parrish #winter wonderland #the remaking of corbin wale #fence #cs pacat #the abominable #dan simmons #the christmas fling #reading tag

[takerfoxx]

The Sandman, Season 1, Episode 3, "Dream a Little Dream of Me," First Impressions!

"Fuck it, let's go to Hell!"

Yeah, I know that line had nothing to do with the plot of this episode, but c'mon, what a stinger.

And hey, can we just take a moment to give it up for Patton Oswalt for getting to live the fanboy dream, no pun intended? A few years ago my sister and I attended a Neil Gaiman talk and autograph signing, and Oswalt was the host, and he started the night by basically confessing that he grew up as the biggest Gaiman fan ever, so much so that they basically hired Gaiman's stalker to host the show. And now he gets to play (well, voice) one of the most important characters in the long-awaited Sandman adaptation.

So anyway, this episode was surprisingly nostaglic, but for a different reason than what I was expecting. When I first graduated high school, I made a point to marathon all of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel, mainly because I fell in love with Firefly and wanted to see Whedon's other works (no, I am not going to talk about recent controversies). And I loved them deeply. There was just something about the whole gothic urban fantasy mysteries with pithy dialogue and corny jokes I found appealing. Never did move onto Supernatural for whatever reason, but I thoroughly enjoyed my time in the Buffyverse.

This reminded me a lot of that, even if the source material, both Sandman and Hellblazer, predates Buffy by a good amount. Johanna's flashbacks to the Job Gone Wrong and the bit with the princess's possessed fiance were much in that same vein, and were a ton of fun. I can't help but wonder if that little girl in Johanna's nightmare is going to show up in Hell the next episode.

Even though I knew it was coming, I still popped hard when Mad Hettie basically stepped off the page. As much as I've enjoyed what's been changed, expanded upon, and updated, I still appreciate the parts where they went, "Nah, this is fine the way it is. Just adapt it word-for-word."

I would have liked to have the Mr. Sandman musical drops. It would've been funny. Wait, did they have it and I just missed it?

Speaking of which, while it would be neat to have the John Constantine, rights are what they are, and Johanna made for a very impressive replacement. She was exactly the kind of messy individual who's trying her best but has made a ton of mistakes, has hurt a lot of people, and is also just so done with everyone coming to her with their problems, and yet so can't look away. I wonder if they renamed her ancestor in the coming Men of Good Fortune episode. I guess we'll see.

Also, to everyone complaining about how changing the Constantine character female made the show even more gay, go and look into John Constantine's romantic history. There's a reason why making King Shark his ex in Harley Quinn actually isn't that farfetched.

I was bummed that the only rogue dream we got in Rachel's apartment was that reunion with the fake Rachel. It was very good, yes, but I was looking forward to the trippy house haunted by her dreams, with the rogue Nightmares pissing their pants when they realize that Dream is present and the inside-out guy on the walls. I did smirk when Johanna mentioned telling Rachel's father about her passing, because this version of the guy actually got lucky compared to his comic counterpart. Ouch.

And in regards to what I said earlier about Gaiman taking this show as a do-over, building up the tension between Dream and Matthew is actually kind of a nice touch, as the conflict with their relationship was mainly around Dream just being a little cold and standoffish with him because he's like that with everyone, but this has something for them to actually work out, along with a very good reason for Dream not wanting another raven along, given what happened to the last one.

The John Dee and Ethel Cripps stuff now fell more-or-less to how it went in the comics, albeit a bit more dramatic. And gory. I really like this depiction of him. He's both something sympathetic while also being rather horrifying. It just brings a human layer to the character that will serve to make the diner episode even more horrific. I also smirked at the sidelong references to Doctor Destiny that don't violate trademark but do wink at it.

Corinthian wasn't as active here as I was expecting, but he is still lurking in the background, nudging things around to fuck things up for Dream. I wonder if his end will be the same as the comics. I hear they spiced up the confrontation between him and Dream to make it more appropriate as a season finale, but it still would be really funny if after all of his attempts to basically assassinate Dream throughout the season, he still meets his end via Dream just crashing his Cereal Convention speech. Like, you try so hard to kill a motherfucker, doesn't work, and then you go to hang out with your friends to burn off steam, only for him to ruin your big moment with a, "I lived, bitch!"

Okay, time for the momentum to really pick up. Let's go to Hell!

#the sandman #neil gaiman #dream of the endless #johanna constantine #john constantine #john dee #ethel cripps #matthew the raven #patton oswalt #the corinthian #dream a little dream of me #netflix #review

[fushigikid]

1, 3, 5, 7, 8, 9 (if you still want questions. if not hope you're having a good day)

What are 3 things you’d say shaped you into who you are? (1) No joke, I think The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time really opened up a whole new world to me when it came out haha (2) Having not straight teeth haha There's always a sense of humility with having teeth that aren't straight lol (3) Selling lollipops for a failed fundraiser in my junior year of high school. I went around selling lollipops around campus, and this one guy from my PE class kept buying them, and so he told me to hang out with his friend group, and now I'm still friends with that entire group. One of them is married to one of my cousins now. I play D&D with a few of them too haha

3. 3 films you could watch for the rest of your life and not get bored of? (1) Princess Mononoke (2) Lord of The Rings (All three haha They count as one) (3) Over The Garden Wall (I know it's not a movie, but I couldn't think of anything else, and whenever I watch it, I treat it as a movie haha)

5. What made you start your blog? Justin Wallis of Milkbbi haha We were chatting a looooong time ago, and he was showing me his Tumblr, and I was like, "Whassat?" and the rest is history haha

7. What scares you the most and why? I guess, aside from the obvious "death," rats horrify me haha For no particular reason. Because I can see how they have cute faces, and they're smart, and tiny or whatever, but they're just horrifying to me haha

8. Any recurring dreams? I don't think I've ever had recurring dreams. I do dream a lot though.

9. Tell a story about your childhood When I was around 9 or 10, there was a family party at my uncle Will's house. We ended up sleeping over, and I woke up in my cousin's room. Around this age, I would wake up really thirsty a lot; so much so that my family ended up buying me a little bedside water dispenser haha So I woke up my cousin, and asked if she could get me some water. She was nice enough to do it, so she got up and walked to the kitchen that was directly across the hall. She left the door open, so I could see the open door to the kitchen. I looked down, and when I looked back up again, there was a woman standing there. I can still remember vaguely what she looked like. Milky white, translucent, in some sort of robe or dress, and her hair went down to her shoulders. I got scared, of course, so I covered myself with the blanket, and then my cousin came back in with my cup of water. I drank the water, and asked her if anyone else was awake, because I wanted to rationalize it, of course. I figured maybe I saw my aunt, but I was sleepy or something. She said it was just her, and me. I eventually fell back asleep, and the next morning, I told my parents about what happened. They ended up saying that my sister Jessica had seen the same woman on a separate occasion in that same house. As I've gotten older, I start to wonder if maybe I'm just misremembering or something, and this never happened, but I've been telling this story my whole life so...I dunno haha

#asks

[storms-path]

Day 9 - Yawn

“...And so, as any enlightened mind could surely tell you…”

…

“...Which of course meant that the Sil’dahn…”

…

“...Fell into ruin long before that, of course…”

…

“...And led to the Order of the Fist as we know them today, alongside… you even listening to me, young woman?”

No. Fareena just about managed to bite her tongue on the reflex response, as well as the pointed reminder that she was over twice Erik’s age and then some. But that would just send him spiralling into another lecture about how age is far more of a mental thing than it is physical and of course Fareena is just a child and it would take even more effort not to strangle him. Unfortunately, Erik was the only man who knew where Widargelt had hared off to, and as Stalwart kept reminding her, murder was still very much illegal in Ul’dah.

Unfortunately, her traitorous body did absolutely nothing to stifle the yawn that burrowed its way out of her throat, loudly proclaiming to all the Goldsmithing guild (and Erik) how little she cared about Thanalan’s rich political history and its relation to Ala Mhigo. Alas.

Erik looked horrified. Serendipity looked just about ready to jump for joy. The silence was deafening (if one ignored the tnk tnk tnk of goldsmith hammering). Fareena was unrepentant. After several long, arduous moments, Erik regained his composure.

“I see that I am boring the illustrious Warrior of Light, so allow me to be brief.” Erik proceeded to not be brief by even the most generous definition of the word. Fifteen minutes (which felt closer to fifteen years) later, Fareena finally had her location for the rendezvous.

A good deal of people (lovingly referred to as “idiots” by Fareena) wrongly assumed that viera were immortal. And while certainly they lived a good deal longer than even elezen, their time on the star was far from infinite. Which made it all the more infuriating that Erik sought so dearly to waste her much-limited time. Half the history he spouted had been lived by her family tree, but trying to tell him that had only led him to scoff. Bastard that he was.

Another yawn crept in just thinking about the man. This time Fareena anticipated it, tilting her head back to fully enjoy it. An odd thing to do in the middle of Ul’dah, but Fareena took pride in being odd. It was one of her most charming points, she thought, and to hell with anyone who disagreed. She was never one for company in the first place, even her fellow blessed champions. Stalwart was a stick in the mud and Arashi had a hair-trigger temper and no taste for jokes. No fun at all, the pair of them. But someone had to keep them on the right track, and it stopped the damn voice in her head, so…

She was out past the gates now, her skin blasted with glorious sunshine as she left the great shadow of the city wall behind. Another blisteringly sunny day in Thanalan, same as it ever was. Alas, the heat did nothing for her already-wearied mind. And the shade of the nearby tree looked so very tempting… But no. She had a man to track down, some ancient monk-y secrets to uncover! Or something like that. Truth be told Fareena just did what felt natural with her hands and feet and it mostly worked out alright. Mostly.

She conveniently did not remember the time she had almost broken her foot trying to smash a golem with a leaping kick. As far as Fareena’s ego was concerned, that had never happened.

Somehow, she’d found her way under the mighty bough of the tree. Somehow she found herself nestling herself amongst its roots. Somehow she found her eyes slowly closing, her mind drifting off...

Several hours later, a very, very late Fareena was sprinting to Widargelt’s last known location, hoping against hope she wouldn’t have to speak to Erik again.

#ff14 #final fantasy 14 #ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #ffxivwrite2022 #ffxivwrite #fareena hagen #professor erik #a little shorter and a little sweeter but sometimes that's how it be #fareena's always fun to get into the head of #100+ years old and acts like she's 12 #so of course the thought of her having to interact with erik brings me terrible joy

[maganne-bonete]

I think this might be the most stressful birthday week by far and it's only Tuesday.

I've been aware that my grandfather had dementia maybe weeks or more than a month ago but the thought of it has been troubling me lately.

Recently my bitch of an aunt went to my grandfather's house and ended up arguing with my cousin who's living there. She pulled out a phone to record him and threatened to send the police at him for idk what reason. My sibling and I had to question on what grounds exactly, and my mom even said that she really doesn't have any. My dad questioned my grandfather abt it but since his memory's been deteriorating, he doesn't even know who she was anymore.

But it pisses me off on the fact of how much many of my relatives were so shitty to my grandfather and cousin to begin with. Not that I have full context nor are they shitty towards them 24/7, but my mom jokes that my dad becomes an only child everynight just to take care of my grandpa, despite all our relatives living much closer and my dad being the 7th son of my grandfather. My cousin couldn't take care of him anymore since he started being hostile towards him because of his condition. So it really isn't like I could have a good view on the situation either.

And my cousin, who's an orphan and couldn't afford his own house, constantly gets berated by my aunts growing up and barely ever supported him. It mostly had to be my parents even who made sure he finished highschool and got a degree. My parents even suggested the idea of letting him live with us if he ever get's kicked from there by my other aunt who moved into the house cause of some tradition. Traditionally in our province the youngest kid gets to inherit the parent's house once the time comes but my grandfather is literally still alive. It puts a bad taste in my mouth. (Same aunt never invited my mom or my dad's side of the family to her wedding either)

But it's been also really troubling me how my grandfather's been lately. He even thinks my dad's his grandson rather than his actual son these days. Like, I feel like I haven't spent enough time with him at all and now he's slowly forgetting everything. And as much as how I've been bitching abt my relatives I don't think I'm any better either.

Maybe it's because I'm sad that he probably doesn't remember the times I've been delivering food for him from our house. Or the times he's driven the jeepney just to bring me and my cousins back and forth to school. He was still okay earlier this year when we celebrated his birthday but so much has already happened.

There's this sense of grief I've been feeling it seems. Forgetting is a fate worse than dying, and it makes me wished that I've asked more abt his life straight from his mouth. It's like I allowed him to die this way to begin with.

Like, I'm not an idiot. I, of all people should've tried asking him, writing abt him, recording his stories. He was a boy during the world war and he even worked out of country. There's probably a lot I didn't know that I could only now hear from my father instead. And I just allowed him to die like this even if I knew I should've done better. I should know because history has always been my passion and now, and especially one day, I would pay the price for my laziness and inaction.

There may only be my mother's mother left. She's in Manila right now and even she doesn't have forever. I need to make the right questions. Ask about the times she's lived. Even she was a child during the world wars. Their house in Bikol got bombed directly the moment they left the building. That story still horrifies me and keeps me up sometimes. They could've died there.

Idk, there's just so much I also need to do but this feeling I've been having, this dread, has been eating me up.

#marge's stuff #marge's life rambles #i guess #idk where else to put it #cw death mention

[cosmiclove-heavenstruck]

Dance Lessons | Harry James Potter

Pairing: Harry Potter x fem!Gryffindor!Reader

Wordcount: 12200 words (Yes, really. Do you ever just start to write a little oneshot and then it turns out as a fic with over 10000 words?)

Warnings: swearing, mentions of underage drinking, sexual tension but no smut, fluff, slight angst, slow burn i guess

Summary: Harry asks you to teach him how to dance for the upcoming Spring Ball.

a/n: Set in Harry’s sixth year. English is not my native language, so there might be spelling/grammar mistakes. (The beginning is inspired by this oneshot)

Not many could say that they had faced Voldemort more than once and had survived, but Harry Potter was one of the few lucky ones that had gotten away every time. And if that wasn’t enough, Harry had defeated horrifying creatures, had broken into the Ministry and had saved the wizarding world several times – more or less accidentally, but hey. He had dealt with Umbridge and fought Death Eaters.

To the world, he was a hero, he was the Boy Who Lived.

So yes, his record of fighting the evil was quite impressive for a sixteen-year-old. But there was one thing he knew he would never impress anyone with and that were his dance skills.

Because Harry Potter couldn’t dance for shit.

Everyone who had watched his poor attempt at a waltz at the Yule Ball knew it had been an embarrassing disaster, and a blessing when he had stopped – merely for Parvati Patil’s feet.

Everyone who had watched knew that Harry Potter had never before set foot on a dancefloor. And you had watched. You had watched with great interest because secretly, you had wished for him to ask you to the ball. But when there had been only two weeks left and Dean Thomas had asked you after Transfiguration class, you had said yes.

There you were, sitting with Dean beside Seamus and Lavender as well as Ron and his date Padma, your eyes glued to the raven-haired boy getting terribly out of step. You watched, of course, under the pretence that you found it disgracefully hilarious.

Harry had never thought about asking you to the Yule Ball, if he was quite honest with himself. He had been after Cho, and he waited way too long to ask her, so she was already going with Cedric. And you had a date with Dean.

As good as Harry was with fighting the dark and the evil, as bad was he with social interactions. He had no problem producing a Patronus, but he was absolutely useless when it came to talking to girls.

You were the opposite.

Yes, the boggart may had made you faint in front of your whole class, but on the other hand, talking seemed like the easiest task in the world. Whether it was a chat with a teacher or speaking to strangers, though you did not thrive off of that.

There was one other thing that made you stand out to the other girls (and boys) in your year: You knew how to dance, from a simple disco fox to a more complicated waltz.

So, when Professor Slughorn announced a Spring ball for the students in sixth and seventh year, Harry knew you were his only chance if he did not want to make a fool out of himself again. He asked you (after a whole week of practicing in front of the mirror), with heated cheeks and a fast-beating heart, if you could teach him how to dance.

You felt a bit taken by surprise by this request, but agreed, nonetheless.

Friday evenings, eight to nine o’clock, were now reserved for your weekly dance lessons.

Looking at Harry’s history, it should be no big deal to dance with a girl when you had already come across the most dangerous things existing in the wizarding world. He should not be nervous; what was the girl teaching you how to dance against gigantic spiders who saw you as their dessert?

Well, everything.             

The thing was, Harry could prepare spells and charms, he knew what he had to do when he was faced with a Dementor or a Boggart. His mind, however, went completely blank when it came to you, like his nerves were on fire. To say he was nervous was an underestimation.

Harry ran his hand through the mess of black locks in a rather useless attempt to flatten them. They jumped back up immediately as he let go, pointing in every direction but the one he wanted them to. Stupid genes.

Sometimes he wished he had inherited his mother’s hair. It would have been fun to be mistaken as a Weasley and he could pretend he and Ron were actually brothers.

To keep his hands busy, Harry smoothened the plaid shirt he had thrown on before darting another glance at the clock over the door of the abandoned classroom on the fifth floor. 8:01 o’clock.

His fingers drummed against the wooden desk he was leaning on to release his excited tension, which only worked until the door opened, and he jumped up into a straight position.

You stepped inside, a vinyl clammed under your arm and an apologizing smile on your lips.

“Sorry I’m late, Snape held me off,” You said, placing your bag on the table Harry had leaned on previously.

“Don’t worry, it’s fine. Uh, are you alright?” He asked.

“Oh, yeah. I mean Snape just almost failed my assignment, but I found a new song to dance to, and I’m pretty sure you’ll like it,” You said as you rushed over to the old vinyl player in the corner and unwrapped the black record.

Harry followed your every movement. You could feel his eyes on you and bit down on your lip to stop yourself from smiling.

“It’s a bit slower than the other one, so it will be easier for you to follow,” You added and pulled the vinyl out, stroking a streak of Y/H/C hair behind your ear, your back still facing him.

When the record was placed correctly into the player, you turned back around and led Harry by the hand to the middle of the classroom. This simple touch alone made Harry’s head spin, and it did not help when you placed his hand onto your waist.

“Are you ready?” You asked and he nodded. “Good, follow my lead.”

There was nothing but admirable beauty, the way you moved to the soft piano music filling the room, Harry thought, and he hated himself for not realising sooner. You were like a sunset, and he was afraid to look right at you because what if you saw all the feelings swelling in his heart that dared to overspill at any moment.

You had been right, he adored the music you had brought with you, but he adored you even more.

You thought he looked at his feet because he was afraid to mess up the steps.     

“Hey,” You said softly, taking the hand from his shoulder to lift his chin. “Eyes up.”

“Yes. Right. Sorry.”

A sheepish smile spread over his face and your heart beat hectically against your rip cage as his emerald green eyes met yours.

It took Harry a great deal of strength to not break out of the dance routine he had so intensely studied and kiss you. But your hand slipped away from under his chin back to his shoulder and the moment was lost, like so many others.

Staying professional was not so simple for you either, as much as you liked to deny it. You liked Harry, more than friends should like each other, but who could blame you? Harry was very handsome, with his messy hair and those green eyes, he was sweet and caring, and he was dancing with you in an abandoned classroom, his hand on your waist.

Looking at it from this angle, there seemed to be no reason as to why you were so careful to deny your feelings.

Well, there was one problem: You thought he wanted to ask Cho to the ball to make up for the Yule Ball.

Harry was pretty oblivious when it came to love. Neither had he thought about you as more than friends before sixth year, nor had he realised that the feelings he had felt for Cho two years ago were similar to the ones he had for you now, though they were much more intense.

The worst part was that you two had been friends for three year and since then, you had spent a week of every summer holiday at the Burrow. Harry knew you; he knew that you liked his crappy jokes and his sarcastic comments, but never before had his stomach tingled when you laughed at them. Never before had there been goose bumps all over his skin when you hugged him. And to hell, never before had he acknowledged how goddamn beautiful you were.

“You’re getting really good.” You ripped him out of his thoughts.

“Oh. Really?” He asked.

It would be brilliant if he could dance without thinking about it all the time, fearing he could step on your feet.

“Yes, really,” You replied, grinning.

“Well, I- I suppose I have a good teacher.”

The piano music faded out and you stopped in the middle of the room, slipping your hand out of his. It was a good excuse to turn around and start the vinyl again, so you did not have to answer anything.

Harry stood there for a second, gulping and scratching his neck. He should not have said that.

What he had said flattered you, but it was only a knife dressed like compliment, stroking over your heart to stab you right after. All of this was amicable, temporary, fickle. All of this was for Cho.

You sat the needle back on the record.

“What’s it called? The song, I mean,” Harry asked quietly.

“‘Il Reste du Temps’. The rest of time.” You walked back up to him and took his hand, leading you two into the dance. With his hand on your lower back, he pulled you a bit closer than last time.

“So, there are only two weeks left. You have asked Cho by now, I suppose?” You asked to remind your thoughts of reality.

Harry narrowed his eyebrows, not sure how you had come to the conclusion he still liked Cho. She was great, for sure, but she wasn’t you.

“Oh. Uh, not really, no,” He answered. Your heart jumped.

“Well, you should hurry up. You don’t wanna wait until last minute like last time.”

“I- yeah, I mean, I don’t- I don’t want to go with Cho.”

You stepped forward even though you were supposed to draw back and stomp on his left foot. His hand around yours clenched for a second at the sudden pain.

“Shit. Sorry.” You quickly brought you two back into the right footstep order. “You’re not asking Cho?”

“No. I wanna- No.” Harry stopped himself from talking any further. He couldn’t ask you. He just couldn’t.

“Well, who do you wanna ask?” You said.

Maybe it was Ginny. She was gorgeous, phenomenal at Quidditch and in the Slugclub. Nothing you could say about yourself.

Harry opened his mouth and stammered. “It’s, uh, you know…some…girl.”

Oh yes, great save, Harry, congratulations, He thought to himself, couldn’t be any vaguer, could you? For Merlin’s sake, look at her, she is completely confused.

You were pretty even when you were confused, with your eyebrows drawn together over your eyes curiously inspecting him – Stop.

“Ah, okay. The lucky girl’s a secret,” You said, laughing lightly. It was definitely Ginny.

“No, I mean, she’s –” 

“It’s not my concern who you’ll ask, Harry,” You interrupted to calm him down. “As long as you ask her.”

Harry didn’t know what to reply to that. You really saw them just as friends.

The two of you danced for a while and Harry tried to memorise every golden speck in your dark eyes, every freckle, every curve, just so he could imagine you instead of the person he would dance with in a fortnight. If he would even go. Because what point was there to go to a ball if the one person he wanted to dance with more than anything else would not be there with him?

You tried to enjoy the closeness while it lasted. But the voices crowding your mind all shouted that he would never see you the way you saw him. That his face would never be so close ever again. That his hands would never rest on your body the way they did now, and never with any other intention than for the sake of learning how to dance, learning how to impress Ginny or whoever he would ask.

“Have you – have you asked anyone yet? To go to the ball with you?” Harry disrupted your thoughts and pulled you back into reality.

“No. I don’t even know if I’ll go,” You said and Harry’s heart dropped. “I mean, I’ll come to watch you dance, that’s for sure.”

Now his heart was way up in his throat, beating like hell. He swallowed and forced himself to answer. “No pressure then.”

You grinned at his comment. “Oh please, you can dance better than most of sixth and seventh year combined by now. You remember the spin I showed you last time?”

Harry nodded. He lifted his left arm and put a little pressure on your waist. You performed a small twirl before he caught you again, hand on your side. He smiled proudly.

“Really good.” The music stopped and you looked at the clock on the wall behind Harry. 8:57 o’clock. “I guess that’s it for today.”

Harry smiled sadly but you thought it was just your mind, playing you a trick. You packed the record back into the cover while Harry shouldered his back bag, handing yours to you. Then he held the door open for you, and you stepped out into the dimly lit hallway.

Harry had already pulled out the Marauders Map to check if the way back to the Gryffindor tower was clear. You weren’t technically allowed out after nine p.m. because of the new safety measurements, but it was part of the charm.

“Filch’s down on the first floor and Snape’s in his office,” Harry informed you.

“Okay.” You nodded.

Quietly and side by side, you two walked back to the Gryffindor tower. There was plenty of silence to break, plenty of time to ask you to the ball, Harry thought. But he was too afraid.

–

“It’s not that easy, alright?”

“Bloody hell, you spent every Friday evening with her! Half of our year thinks you’re secretly doing it in that classroom.”

For that, Ron earned a jab into his ribs. The two made their way through the masses of students down the last staircase to the Great Hall.

“Ow! It’s not my fault, you can’t open your mouth.”

“Oh, I can’t open my mouth? Have you asked Hermione yet?”

Harry was sure this would shut Ron up, but he was wrong.

“I asked her six weeks ago and she said yes, mate.”

Harry stopped in his tracks, stunned. “Wot?”

“Merlin, do you ever listen to me?”

Ron shook his head, walking to breakfast. Harry needed a few seconds before he could move again, then he caught up with his best friend. He was about to say something back when Ron’s sister Ginny interrupted them, wrapping her arms around both of Harry and Ron’s shoulders.

“Morning boys,” She greeted them enthusiastically.

The ceiling of the Great Hall was covered in a pale blue and yellow, the upcoming sun shining golden through the high windows.

“So.” Hermione poured both of you a glass of pumpkin juice. “How was it yesterday?”

“Mhm?” You looked up from your toast.

She sighed as if her question was rather obvious. “The dance lesson with Harry?”

“Oh.” You shrugged. “Normal.”

“So, nothing happened? Nothing you want to tell me?” She asked further.

You eyed her suspiciously, but she kept an innocent face expression.

“It’s not like we could do much besides dancing.”

Lavender beside you snickered and Parvati snorted into her coffee.

“Believe me, there is a lot you could do in that hour besides dancing,” Parvati said.

“God, no! Have you met Harry?” Lavender said bemusedly. “Like he's the type to have secret sex.”

“Still waters run deep,” Parvati replied, a smug grin on her lips. “Don't they, Y/N?”

Hermione crunched her nose at the suggestive tone as you narrowed your eyes at the two girls, shaking your head.

“Yes, keep making fun of my non-existing love life.”

You grabbed the strawberry marmalade, determined to ignore any topic concerning Harry. While you had lain awake last night, you had decided to bury your feelings for him all together and get over it. This would be easier once your dance lessons came to an end and the ball was done.

“Well, it does exist for everyone else,” Lavender interposed.

“And it would exist for you, too, if you would finally do something,” Hermione said, leaning forward.

“What?” You asked. “I mean, yeah, I like him, but he is definitely not into me like that. And I can't force him to be.”

Hermione groaned, and Parvati rummaged through her bag, pulling out a piece of parchment and making some space on the table.

“Okay, let’s see,” She began, “He asked you to teach him to dance. Big step for him, you know that. He always stares at you during Quidditch instead of the Snitch. Wood would've killed him by now. He always sits beside you. He definitely smelled you in Amortentia, regarding how he looked at you during that class. And since then, he looks at you like you’re the only person in the room. He –”

“He does not,” You said, grabbing her wrist to stop her from writing any further.

“Yeah, he does,” Lavender argued. “Look!”

You turned to spot Harry alongside Ron and his sister Ginny coming through the doorway, and for one second, your eyes met. Then Ginny said something, and Harry looked at her, laughing.

You sighed and stuffed the rest of your toast down your throat to get rid of the sour feeling twirling and burning in your stomach.

“Well, Ginny’s pretty funny,” Hermione tried.

“Yeah, she’s funny and pretty and she likes everything he likes.”

“None of that matters because he fell in love with you and not Ginny,” Lavender said, smiling brightly.

“He did not – not what you said.”

“He did! The list doesn’t lie.”

Parvati waved the parchment through the air, and you snatched it out of her hand, drowning it in the pumpkin juice before anyone could read it. Hermione curled her lip as she watched the paper soaking up the orange liquid, sinking to the ground of the jug.

In the same moment, Harry, Ron and Ginny reached your table, and to your surprise, Harry really did sit down beside you, your knees touching shortly while he climbed over the bench. The sudden touch sent sparks through your body and filled you with a comfortable warm which was quickly extinguished by Ginny sitting down next to Harry.

You didn’t want to be jealous.

There was no need to compare yourself to Ginny, you were two completely different people. But hearing her talk about Quidditch to the guys and seeing her flicking her beautiful hair over her slim shoulder made it so obvious how perfect for Harry she was. You couldn’t compete with that, in fact, you didn’t even want to compete with that.

No, you would get over your feelings and maybe ask someone else to spend the next Hogsmeade weekend with you. Those evenings with Harry, those moments too good to be true would stay somewhere deep down in your heart, locked away from the real world.

The weekend left as fast as it had come, and soon enough Harry and you both found yourselves in your day-to-day school life, studying for an upcoming Charms test and writing essays for Snape and McGonagall.

There wasn’t much time to think about each other, yet Harry managed to glance up from his homework a few times to stare at you opposite from him, snuggled into an armchair while flicking through a book. He noticed that you captured your tongue between your lips or mouthed single words to yourself whenever you were so deeply sunken into thoughts that you forgot the many people around you.

The latter found Harry very impressive because he was never that relaxed if more than three people were with him. Your lips on the other hand found Harry... well, much more interesting than his homework was the least to say.

Every day he woke up thinking that today, he would ask you. But whenever he came close to ask, he changed the topic or was distracted by friends and classmates.

Even Ron had given up with his jokes by now, which was a very bad sign and a nonverbal way to say, Man, you fucked up.

–

You had decided to make the last of your dance lessons a memorable one. An hour of pretending, of being close to someone you know you would never be this close to ever again.

Therefore, you had asked your older sister to send some of your favourite records from home, which you were now sorting through in the abandoned classroom. It was ten minutes to eight and you were sipping a butterbeer to cool your nerves. All those times before you had been as calm as ever, but today you were on the edge.

The door opened and you turned to find Harry in the doorway, hair messy as ever.

“Hi,” He said and the corners of his lips jumped up into a lopsided smile.

“Hey. You’re early.”

“Could say the same about you.”

“Yeah, you could,” You mumbled, pushing the needle of the record player down onto the vinyl.

Classic music filled the air and you walked over to Harry to lead him to the middle of the room after he had dropped his back bag to the floor. With the high heels on your feet, you were almost eye to eye, your nose at the height of his lips.

For a wonder, he did not need your instruction to place his hand on your waist and pulled you much closer than usual.

Harry felt his heart beating in his throat. Being this close to you was galvanic, every nerve was burning, and then again, for the first time in two months, he was able to close his eyes and let himself sink in, to melt with the music, to feel the tact pulsating through his whole body. It was what you had tried to teach him all along.

And yet his tongue was tied. He just had to ask. Would you like to go to the ball with me? One simple question. You had told him yourself to not wait until last-minute to ask, and now with every minute, every hour, every day passing it felt more ridiculous. He had known that he wanted to ask you and only you to the ball, but every time he thought about forming the question, his mouth failed him.

Your eyes lay calmly on him, tapping his shoulder in time to the music while secretly trying to remember every little detail of his face: His prominent eyebrows curved over his emerald green eyes, his flushed cheeks and the dimples created by his light smile lying on his lips.

Harry had become, for lack of a better word, quite fantastic at slow dancing. There was confidence in the way he moved through the room and held onto you, mingled with a certain elegance and appreciation of the art he was participating in. A good teacher, he had called you. Well, regarding slow dances, yes.

But there was one other thing he had yet to learn.

“You’re really good, you know that?” You said, and his smile brightened.

“Yeah? Or are you just saying that because it’s my last lesson?” He asked.

“No, I mean it. You know, I wrote my sister last week and she send some of my vinyl discs from home,” You told him as the music slowly faded out and let your hand slip from his shoulder and hand to turn to the record player, not noticing how his fingers lingered a moment longer on your waist.

Harry watched how you sorted through the discs, not able to make use of their names in any way. The only record he had come across before those dance lessons had been one by a singer named Bonnie Tyler, who Aunt Petunia secretly listened to on repeat during the summer when Uncle Vernon went grocery shopping or mowed the lawn.

Harry wasn’t a big fan, which was pretty much the only thing he had in common with his cousin Dudley.

“Here. To dancing and a nice Spring ball.” Harry snapped out of his thoughts. You held out a bottle of butterbeer, which he took and snapped its bottle top off, regarding for a moment to say something along the lines like To you, for teaching me how to dance or To us, but that seemed a bit too much.

Therefore, he went with a simple “Cheers” and touched glasses with you.

While he took a big sip in hopes it would make him braver, you decided on a turquoise and pink coloured disc with a man dancing on the front, the words Footloose in ornate writing covering its front. He couldn’t help but notice the grin you tried to hide, as if knowing something he didn’t.

“What’s that?” He asked, leaning against the table beside you and putting his beer aside.

“That’s what the cool kids dance to.”

You placed the needle onto the record. Drums began to play a fast rhythm, mixed with an electric guitar, and you slipped off your high heels, now only in tights. Harry watched with fearful curiosity how you snapped your fingers in time, bopping your head with closed eyes to internalise the music.

Every movement of your feet, your hips, your shoulders was nonchalant, effortless and... well, simply cool.

“Come on!” You said loudly over the music, waving Harry closer.

“No, no, that’s –” He shook his head, heat flushing his cheeks, and crossed his arms.

“Yes!”

You danced up to him, grabbing him by his hands and pulling him to the middle of the room.

Harry had improvised a lot when it came to fighting evil. His whole trip to the ministry had been decided because of his gut instinct, because he had thought he knew what he was doing. Well, that was probably a bar example. He had made everything worse back then.

But everything he had done to fight off the hundreds of Dementors at the Great Lake, or the creatures in the maze two years ago, or Voldemort at the graveyard, every single thing had been purely and spontaneously improvised.

Now, he wasn’t sure if he was that good at improvising dance moves, but you had other plans.

“Come on, don’t you trust me?” You said as his fingers clenched around your hands, unable to let go, like a man clinging onto a life buoy in the middle of the ocean.

And Harry wanted to say back that of course he trusted you, more than he probably knew himself, but all that came out was a “Yeah” which sounded more like a laugh than an actual word because of the grin stretched across his lips.

“Just dance the way you dance when no one’s watching,” You said.

“I don’t – I don’t do that,” He admitted, feeling how his cheeks burned under the unbelieving look coming from you.

“Okay, then close your eyes and just – just do it. Here, I’ll do it, too!”

You closed your eyes, smiling brightly, and slipped your fingers out of his, twirling on the spot like you usually only did behind closed doors, and clapping your hands in time with the music.

Harry couldn’t rip his gaze off of you, the way your body moved without any shame, your ridiculous head banging while acting like you play the guitar – air guitar, that’s what it was called, he had seen Dudley and his friends doing it, but never with so much... passion?

You were quite passionate about dancing, much more passionate than you were about school or Quidditch, and it fascinated him. How you could let loose, could forget what everyone thought of you, and he wanted to feel it too, wanted to not think that everyone was judging him.

So, Harry closed his eyes, concentrated on the beat of the music and your hands clapping, and then he did what you had been doing: Moving his arms, his legs, his feet, all a bit offbeat, all much less cool than what you did, but it had the effect he had wished for.

He forgot. Forgot about everything going on, everything in the past, everything that would come. It was like the music had deleted Voldemort from his mind. There was only his body and those absurdly freeing dance moves he would have been ashamed off any other time.

But not with you.

“Hey, you’re doing it! You’re doing it, look at you!” You shouted over the music, and Harry ripped his eyes open in the same moment as you grab his hands again. He slowed his legs.

“You said you wouldn’t look,” He said breathlessly, very aware of his fast-beating heart.

But if he was honest, he did not mind that you had seen him. If he could choose any of his friends to watch him dance like this, it would definitely be you.

“I had to, I’m sorry!” You laughed, and the song came to an end. “Oh, I have something even better, you’ll like that!”

You hit him friendly in the chest and rushed over to your pile of vinyl discs, wrapping the Footloose back up and pulling out another one from a white and pink packaging with two people on the front.

Harry would’ve never believed that dance lessons would be more exhausting than Quidditch training, but he had soon been disabused. He took a huge sip from his bottle of butterbeer and watched how you placed the needle on the disc before reaching for your own bottle.

“‘You broke my heart – ‘cause I couldn't dance – you didn’t even want me around!’” You were mouthing along the words the singer was speaking in an overdramatic seriousness, holding your bottle like a microphone. Harry was grinning at you, afraid of what would come next. “‘And now I'm back – to let you know – I can really shake 'em down!’”

The music dropped in, and you shook your hips, hands on your black skirt.

“Now don’t tell me you’ve never heard of Dirty Dancing,” You dared as Harry stayed at his spot, and he shrugged helplessly.

You shook your head at him with a smile on your lips, placed your bottle away and pulled him away from the table until you two were almost as close as in your usual dance lessons.

“Okay, like this.” You grabbed him gently by the waist and pushed him a bit down so his legs were slightly bent. Harry’s heart jumped at the unexpected touch. “Good, yeah, look at what I’m doing.”

Your grip became firmer, circularly moving his hips like you did. His eyes jumped up between your face and your waist, and he tried his best to copy your movements while calming his heart speed down.

“Yes, good! Now, your upper body, look at me – yeah! Good, eyes up,” You reminded him, and he glanced at your face, his cheeks flushed.

“Is that okay?” You asked, stepping closer so your hips almost touch, and he nodded. You took his hand, placed it on your lower back, and wrapped your own arms around his neck, just like Johnny and Baby had done it in the beginning of Dirty Dancing.

“That’s good!” You encouraged him, and he grinned at you, his face bright red. “You know, in the movie, they have another dance with a lift.”

“You’re not gonna make me do that, are you?” He asked.

You shook your head, laughing. “No, definitely not without training and a mattress,” You said, slowing your hip movements. “Maybe after the ball. I mean –”

The words had just slipped out of your mouth without thinking about them before. But Harry smiled, brushing a strand of hair out of his forehead, while I’ve Had The Time Of My Life began to play, and Bill Medley’s voice filled the room.

Harry felt like he was on fire. If you wanted to continue the dance lessons next year it must be because you liked him. In some way, you liked him, and it was very hard for him to concentrate during this dance. And training on a mattress would not make that easier – Stop it, stop it, just answer!

“Yeah, okay,” He said, and your heart jumped up in excitement. You smiled back at him and grabbed his free hand with yours, leading you back into a simple dance routine fitting the music. Harry followed almost effortlessly, only shortly glancing at his feet.

“I’ll have to demand payment if we keep doing this.”

“What kind of payment?”

His hand on your lower back pushed you a bit closer, you were almost chest to chest. Was he... flirting with you?

Whatever it was, it made you speechless, and in a moment of incautiousness, your eyes fell down to his lips. You held your breath for a second as you looked back up into his eyes, slowing your movements. He returned your gaze, but just as you were about to gather all your courage, his eyes shifted to the door of the classroom, his eyebrows drawn together in concentration.

“What?” You asked, turning around.

“Filch,” He said and not far down the hall, you heard the meowing of Mrs. Norris.

Panic flared up inside of you as you saw the clock on the wall: Half past nine.

“Argh, fuck.”

You let go off him and rushed over to the table with the record play on top, shoving your vinyl discs into your schoolbag and collecting your high heels in a hurry.

Outside in the hallway, the scratchy voice of Filch mixed with the clicking of his cat’s claws on the stone tiles. Harry had grabbed his bag from the floor and fished out his Invisibility Cloak. As you turned around, he had reached you and enveloped you two in the cloak, standing almost as close to you as a few seconds ago.

“Have you found someone, Mrs. Norris?” Filch’s voice echoed through the hallway. “Is someone out of bed at night?”

“We have to get out,” You whispered, not very keen on getting detention any time soon.

“If we open the door now, he’ll know someone disguised is there,” Harry answered.

“How often have you snuck out of bed at night?”

The corners of his mouth twitched upwards into a lopsided smile.

“Enough times to know what to do.”

The scratching on the classroom door reminded Harry that, despite the fact that they were invisible, it was still pretty obvious that someone had been in here. Harry flicked his wand at the ceiling light right in time – the candles went out and the two of you were coated in darkness just before Filch pushed the door open and the light from his lantern fell onto the stone floor. You held your breath, hoping he would leave again.

Unfortunately, Mrs. Norris’ red eyes scanned the room and the greyish cat walked up to you as if she could actually see you. Instinctively, you wanted to move backwards, but Harry’s arm wrapped around you, holding you in place. You looked up to him and he slowly shook his head.

Mrs. Norris eyed you for a few more seconds before she suddenly jumped onto the table behind you, walking up to the two almost emptied butterbeer bottles and bumping her head against them.

“Oh no.” Your voice was no more than a whisper. “I didn’t –”

Harry placed his hand over your mouth, forcing you to keep quiet.

“Sorry,” You mumbled.

Filch had turned away from the other side of the room he had inspected and was now walking over to his cat. With his arm around your mid, Harry pulled you two quietly away from the table he was now inspecting. You weren’t entirely sure whether it was the panic of escaping Filch or Harry’s chest pressed against your back, but the butterflies in your stomach were jittery as though they were on drugs, and your heart beat unbelievably fast.

Harry felt your heartbeat. He felt the pulsating blood in your veins on your neck where his arm lay, reaching up to your mouth. You were barely breathing, and he figured it was because he was holding you like he was about to kidnap you.

“Run when we’re in the hallway,” He whispered, eyes steadily watching Filch, and removed his hand from your lips to grab your free hand. You nodded shortly. Fortunately, Filch had left the door open, and in one swift motion, Harry had steered you outside.

Fingers still interlocked with yours, he began to run, you by his side. And despite the fact that you two had almost been caught, despite that you had been interrupted when he had felt most confident, despite the ruined moment, he felt light and free and happy.

You were clutching your shoes, slithering over the cold tiles in your black tights, and Harry, looking at you, almost missed the last step of the stairs leading to the portrait of the Fat Lady. He held onto you as he staggered, and you giggled breathlessly, pulling him back up.

“That – stupid – fucking – cat. Can she see through your cloak?” You asked.

Harry shrugged and ruffled through his messy hair.

“Don’t know. I think, but I’m glad she can’t talk,” He said, and a grin spread over your lips, which he returned.

He caught your eyes, looking at you like before, like there was something he needed to say – the tingling feeling in your core got overwhelmed by heart-racing panic and because of some sour mix of uncertainty and fear, you slipped out from under the Invisibility Cloak, taking a few steps away from Harry.

Not a second later, he emerged as well, fighting to keep the smile on his face like his heart hadn't just sunk so deep he wasn't sure if it was even still connected to his veins.

“You okay?” He asked.

“Yeah!” Your voice was too loud, too squeaky to convince him. “Yeah, I – I'm sorry, it's just been a long week and I'm really tired. I'm gonna – gonna go...”

You gestured to the portrait behind you, avoiding his eyes, and turned to escape the situation.

Harry stared at the spot where you had vanished into the common room, his fingers clenching around the fabric of his cloak before tossing it to the ground. It didn't give the satisfying sound he had wanted to make, so he sent a “Fuck!” after it.

“Young boy, that is not a very appropriate language, now, is it?”

His eyes flew up to the Fat Lady, who had apparently watched with great interest. “Besides, what are you doing that late out of bed? I mean I know it gets later on Fridays for the two of you but it's later than usual today –”

“Chinese Fireball.”

“I just don't know what you are doing during that hour. There are rumours, for sure –”

“I told you the password, now will you open the fucking portrait? Chinese Fireball.”

“Oh, fine.” She let the portrait swing forward. “I'll find out by myself... maybe visit some paintings down on fifth floor...”

Harry ignored the Fat Lady.

He also ignored Ron calling after him from the sofa in front of the fireplace, as well as Hermione's questioning look and all the other people staring at him as he darted through the common room and up the stairs, slamming the door of his dorm shut behind him.

He ignored them because the only person he wanted to be seen with had just left him standing in the hallway and he wasn't even sure why.

The first time you saw each other again was three days later in Potions. You had ignored him on purpose, which you knew was obvious to him: Leaving the Great Hall whenever he stepped inside, sitting as far from him in the common room as possible, avoiding his eyes... that did not leave that much room for speculations.

You didn't want to hurt him, you really didn't, but you couldn't be friends any longer, especially not after last Friday. You weren't even sure what exactly had happened – had he really flirted with you or had that been your imagination? Probably the latter. He had asked someone else the ball after all. Right?

Parvati nudged you with her elbow, and you snapped out of your thoughts, noticing the hole in your parchment created by your quill. The two of you sat in the far back of Professor Slughorn’s class, who was in the middle of telling one of his anecdotes instead of teaching about Veritaserum.

“What’s going on?” She asked in a hushed voice. “You’ve been weird since Friday.”

Lavender, who sat in front of you, turned around. “Is it because of – you know?”

She gestured towards Harry in his usual place diagonally across from you. You sighed, placed your quill aside to rub your hands over your face and shrugged. You had also avoided any questions from your friends about Friday, mostly because you could not even answer them yourself.

“I thought he would ask you,” Lavender whispered while throwing a quick glance at Slughorn to make sure he was still occupied with his story. “Didn’t he?”

“No,” You mouthed. Parvati shook her head.

“Man, you’d think he had grown a set of balls after all. If it turns out he just used you to look good in front of Ginny, I swear to Merlin –”

“Well, that’s what it looks like, I mean, he had enough time to ask you,” Lavender said.

Before you could reply anything, Parvati had grabbed her wand and leaned forward. In the next second, the blue Jobberknoll feathers on Harry’s desk burst into flames with an ear-piercing noise.

Both Harry and Ron jumped up, startled from the sudden explosion, and Hermione let out a little shriek as one of the sparks got caught up in her locks. Snickering came from the Slytherin table, and Crabbe and Goyle were stupidly grinning.

“Was that you? Stupid tosspot, I’ll shove that feather up your –,” Ron swore loudly, fists high and ready to walk over to the Slytherins, who had gotten up as well and were throwing insults through the room.

“Calm down, m’boys, no need to get abusive.”

Slughorn stepped between the two fronts while both Harry and Hermione pulled Ron back down onto his chair. With a wave of Slughorn’s wand, the feathers stopped burning and were as good as new.

“Have you gone mental?” You asked during the turmoil. Parvati shrugged and innocently shoved her wand aside.

“You’re my friend and if he hurt you, he’ll get what he deserves –”

“He didn’t hurt me!” You whispered angrily. “I was the one who panicked, I ran away that evening because I was afraid of what he would say! Not Harry. I left him like the idiot I am even though he – he was super nice and said he wanted to learn more –”

“Ms. Y/L/N?”

“Sorry, Professor, I was just –”

“Talking to Ms. Patil, I noticed. Could you still answer my question?” Slughorn eyed you, and so were all the other students.

“Uh...yes... if you could repeat it? Sir.” You said, and once again snickering echoed through the classroom, the loudest coming from Pansy Parkinson.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Parvati reaching for her wand again, and you quickly pressed her hand down to the table, awkwardly smiling at Slughorn.

“I asked if you could tell me anything about the usage of Veritaserum in court,” He kindly repeated and you straightened your back, ignoring Hermione’s raised hand.

“Well, the potion is strictly banned by the British Ministry of Magic, therefore they don’t use it during interrogations and such, which is also because, like any other potion, it’s not infallible. But I read that in some Asian countries, the accused can choose if they want to take Veritaserum before they give testimony. Unfortunately, in some courts they give the accused failed Veritaserum in order to alter the given testimony fraudulently.”

You had never read about that, you were – ironically – making it up, but Slughorn didn’t seem to notice.

“Very well, that’ll be five points for Gryffindor,” He said. “That reminds me of –”

As Slughorn fell back into his old habit of telling personal stories during class, you sank back into your chair and stared at the chapped top of the desk for the rest of the lesson.

Only the bell ripped Slughorn out of his monologue, and over the rustling of chairs, he told the class to read the next chapter of Advanced Potion Making until Wednesday.

“Courtyard?” You asked Parvati as to where to spend your free lesson.

“Yeah, but I got a question about that graded essay from last week. Just go ahead, I’ll catch up with you,” She answered and made her way to the front. Alongside with Lavender, you were one of the first to leave the Potions classroom.

“I wish I hadn’t picked Arithmancy,” Lavender complained.

“You can sleep longer on Thursdays, remember?” You said as you reached the entrance hall. “I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah, bye.”

Lavender began to climb up the stairs to the third floor, and you walked down the hallway. It was freezing cold outside, but the courtyard was beautiful during every time of the year, especially in the early mornings when the sun melted the iced-up grass and you could share a hot chocolate with your friends on one of the benches.

“Hey, Y/N! Wait!”

You turned to spot none other than Theodore Nott running up to you, his Slytherin scarf loosely around his neck.

“Hi,” He said as he had reached you.

“Uh, hi. Can I help you?” You asked.

“Actually, yeah. I wanted to ask if you have a dance to spare at the Spring ball? I mean, I know you’re going with Potter, I just wanted one dance with someone professional –”

“I’m not going with Harry,” You blurted out. Theodore narrowed his eyebrows.

“What?” He asked, a bemused smile on his lips.

You gulped and shook your head, crossing your arms. “I’m not going with... anyone.”

“Oh. Well, then,” His body relaxed visibly, and he raised his eyebrows, “do you wanna go with me?”

You opened your mouth, an agreement already on the tip of your tongue, but you knew that was just out of desperation and not because you actually wanted to go to the ball with Theodore.

“Hey, you know what, no pressure at all, okay?” He said, placing his hand on your shoulder casually. “I’ll be at the ball anyway, so if you want to dance then, I’m free.”

You nodded. “Thank you, Theodore. I’ll think about it.”

“You can call me Theo. Only if you want to, obviously.”

A grin crept upon your face. “Yeah, I’ll – I’ll think about it.”

Whatever Harry had felt the two days prior, it was nothing compared to the sour feeling circulating in his stomach now, like some dragon-creature spitting fire and tearing at his entrails with sharp claws. Inside of him, everything was clenching and itching, but on the outside, he was numb.

Like his brain had been disconnected from his muscles, wherefore he was only able to stare at Theodore Nott and his stupid, complacent grin and his hand on your shoulder while he asked you to the ball.

This wasn’t fair. How come everyone else but him was able to do it, how come everybody else had managed to find a date, when – to be honest – he had been provided with one of the best initial situations? How come the only thing he was apparently fit for was getting himself into trouble and escaping death every goddamn year? Harry had kind of forgotten about all that was to come, all that Dumbledore had told him, and the memory Slughorn was still tending like dark secret simply because of you.

The worst thing wasn’t that Theodore Nott had just asked you to go to the Spring ball with him. No, the worst thing was that you had agreed.

The only thing that was left for him was to run, which he did now: Up to the Gryffindor tower, tossing his back bag into a corner and grabbing his Firebolt from under the bed, then back down to the Quidditch pitch in record time.

Flying was one of the most freeing activities known to Harry, especially in the cool, fresh morning air with no one else around. High above the frozen grass and the wooden stands, much higher than probably allowed without any teacher near by, Harry paused to watch the sun over the Forbidden Forest.

He wondered if you had ever flown before, if you knew how brilliant it was to hover a thousand feet above the ground, far away from all the problems. Far away from Ron asking what the bloody hell was wrong with him. Far away from Hermione telling him that it was his own fault for waiting so long but that you surely weren’t interested like that in that tosser Theodore (though she would probably word it much more formal).

Time was relative up here, Harry had noticed over the years, so he closed his eyes and shut the world out for a moment. Saturday was still light-years away anyway, so –

“Harry, is that you?”

He almost fell from his broom.

With his heart still beating way to fast and adrenalin pumping though his veins, he turned his broom around to find no one other that Luna standing inside commentary box and waving up to him. Oh well. So much for being alone.

He steered his Firebolt down to the blonde witch and landed beside her.

“What are you doing her, Luna?” He asked as climbed from his broomstick. “Don’t you have classes right now?”

“Oh, yes. But I saw that you are sad so I asked Professor Sprout if I could go because I’m not feeling very well,” She explained and sat down on one of the benches.

“You lied to a professor?”

“Oh, no,” She said, looking at him with her dreamy blue eyes. “I don’t feel well when my friends are sad.”

Harry didn’t know what to reply to that, so he simply sat down next to her. Luna had such a strange, but calm energy, like a pulsating, pink bubble inhibiting her, and if you were lucky, she let you inside this bubble and you could shut the world out for a moment.

“Harry, why are you sad?” Luna asked softly after a while.

“Because... because I like someone who doesn’t like me back,” He said.

Luna placed her hand upon his, and he saw that she had painted her fingernails in every colour of the rainbow. Though that was probably Ginny’s work.

“I think Y/N likes you very much,” She said. Harry scoffed.

“Not the way I like her,” He said. “She just agreed to go to the ball with Nott. I saw it. She looked happy. And when I wanted to ask her last week, she ran away.”

“You know, first I thought you wanted to go to the ball with somebody else,” She said. “I thought maybe you wanted to ask Cho again and wanted to prepare this time. And maybe Y/N thought so, too.”

Harry looked up at the blonde girl.

“She did ask me if I was going to ask Cho,” He said, remembering one of the dance lessons.

“And did you tell her that you actually want to ask her?”

“No,” He admitted, burying his face in his hands. “I panicked... and now it’s too late.”

“No, it’s not. You should still go to the ball, and then you should tell her,” Luna said.

“How? I can’t do it when we’re alone, I certainly can’t do it when there’s a hundred people around,” Harry said miserably.

“Well, then don’t.” Luna shrugged. “If you want her to be with Theodore –”

“I don’t want that,” He interrupted her. “Of course, I don’t.”

“Then go to the ball and tell her. I know you can do that.”

Saturday evening came around faster than you liked it to. Over the last four days, you had noticed Theodore’s eyes on you more than once during the meals or potions class, but it did not cause the tingling feeling in your stomach you would like his looks to cause.

If anything, you felt a pressure to talk to him and to spend time with him because you would go to the ball together. But you did not give in to that pressure and avoided him as much as possible, which led to you often leaving the potions classroom as one of the first.

To be honest, you were much more concentrated on Harry.

Harry who did not sit beside you during meals anymore. Harry who did not look in your direction but rather stared at his plate. Harry who looked like he had just lived through a very miserable week.

And you knew that was because you had left him standing in the hallway last Friday night. Maybe he had figured that you had feelings for him and that was his way of dealing with it: Distancing himself from you.

You wished you had not run. You wished you could’ve stayed in that abandoned classroom forever, your favourite song playing and his arms around you.

–

“What eyeshadow should I use?”

“The darker one.”

“Y/N?”

You snapped out of your thoughts, looking up from where you sat on the floor in your puffy, ankle-long purple-pink dress. Parvati held out her eyeshadow palette, eyebrows raised as she sceptically eyed you. Her black hair was still wrapped around a dozen curlers. Lavender had spent all morning on them.

“Yes, the darker one,” You said. “Brings out your eyes.”

Thankfully, that answer seemed to satisfy her enough to not ask how you were doing. She and Lavender had already asked that over a million times, but you had reassured them that you were totally okay.

Parvati turned back to face the mirror.

“When did you want to meet with Nott?” Lavender asked. She kneeled in front of her trunk, pondering whether she should wear black or silver heels.

“Half past seven,” You mumbled, picking at the tulle of your dress.

Theodore had held you back yesterday after Defence against the Dark Arts to tell you that he would be at the Great Hall at 7:30 and that you were welcome to eat dinner with him and his friends – which included people like Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson; people you usually avoided by all means, people that had laughed at you for tripping over the last step of a stair, for not knowing an answer to one of Snape’s stupid questions, or for simply being Muggleborn.

You had never been less interested in going to a social event. All you wanted to do was lay in bed under your blanket and erase the last week out of your mind.

“Oh, come on, darling, we talked about this.” Lavender came over and squished your cheeks, brushing away a tear. “Today is not the day to sulk about some guy who doesn’t return your feelings. Today is your day, and you’re gonna have fun with us. Don’t let some guy ruin that. Okay?”

You sniffed and nodded, not able to answer because she cupped your cheeks so solidly. Lavender smiled and kissed your forehead.

“That’s right,” She said. “We’re gonna have some dinner and dance a bit and if by then you still feel bad, we can go back to our dorm.”

“And if Harry dares to talk to you, he’s gonna know what’s it feels like to be kicked in the balls with a heel,” Parvati added dryly. You laughed.

The Great Hall was decorated with yellow, pink and purple banners, and the four long house tables had been exchanged with much smaller, round ones scattered where the staff table usually stood, on each of them a vase filled with rosa tulips and white daffodils.

The ceiling did not mirror the night sky outside but a beautiful, orange sunset lighting up the dance floor in the middle. Opposite from the many tables, on the other end of the hall, Slughorn had organised a stage with a cover band. Next to the stage hung a long parchment onto which everyone could write requests.

You spotted your Potions teacher, dressed in a bright green suit, next to Dumbledore, his robes a terrible pink, both of them writing down their song requests.

“A Galleon that Dumbledore is a Spice Girls fan,” Lavender said grinning as she had followed your eyes.

“Bet,” Parvati said, grabbing three drinks from a passing waiter. “Here. Cheers.”

The three of you clinked glasses and took a sip of the red punch – it tasted strongly of various fruits, coconut, and bitter alcohol.

You let your eyes glide further over the hall and the people that sat together in groups around the tables, some of them already eating. Secretly, you were looking for Harry, though you only discovered Ginny in between Luna and Hermione, all of them chatting happily, and a few tables behind them, Theodore.

He waved as he saw you, gesturing to come over. You forced yourself to smile and wave back at him.

“I’ll see you later,” You said, chugging down the rest of your drink.

“Tell us if he’s being an asshole,” Parvati said. “Or really any of them.”

“And have some fun,” Lavender added.

You took one last look at your friends – Parvati in her silk, almond white, slim dress, and Lavender with flowers in her hair, their arms linked together – and swallowed thickly before turning and making your way through the crowd towards Theodore, though you made sure to give the table with Ginny a wide berth.

“Hi, Y/N,” Theodore greeted you, pecking a swift kiss on your left cheek. His eyes, however, were gliding over the room filling with more and more students. “We’ve already ordered some drinks, come on.”

You took a step back after the kiss, blinking quickly, then noticed how the other people around the table were staring at you:

Pansy and Daphne eyed you and your dress dismissively, and Blaise sipped on his wine, eyebrows raised. Only Draco was slumped in his chair and chewed on a gum, not wasting a single glance at you. He looked as uninterested in this Spring Ball as you felt.

An hour ago, you sure as hell wouldn’t have believed to relate to bloody Draco Malfoy.

“Uh, hi. I’m Y/N,” You said, forcing a smile on your face and holding out your hand towards Pansy, as she sat closest to you. “I like your dress. Matches your earrings.”

That compliment seemed to leave a mark. Her judging look softened and she shook your hand.

After introducing yourself to everyone (well, except Draco, who had only shortly nodded at you), you sat down in between Theodore and Blaise, and ordered something to eat.

Pansy and Daphne were huddled together the whole time, giggling and pointing at others, while Draco raised a complaint about every meal on the menu or really any other small inconvenience that had the unfortune to be spotted by him (“I can’t eat that, it has tomatoes in it. Nothing on here is gluten free. I’ll write father first thing in the morning. Pansy, will you shut the fuck up for a second? That’s not even a real band. God, I hate this place.”).

“He’s a whiny bitch most of the time, but his family has a great holiday chalet in France,” Blaise said to you after Draco had shot you an annoyed look for asking if you should ask the band to play a different song. “Otherwise, we wouldn’t be friends with him.”

“I hope you choke on that disgusting wine,” Draco muttered, and you chuckled.

“Sure, darling,” Blaise replied, sharing a look with you. Until now, Blaise had surprisingly talked the most with you, and it turned out he wasn’t half as bad as you had always thought he would be.

Theodore on the other hand had only occasionally asked you how your meal was and how long you had planned to stay. His eyes had not held contact with yours for longer than a second and were still searching for something in the crowd, which was – by the way – having fun on the dance floor while you had not moved in almost an hour.

It wasn’t until a particularly beautiful girl from Ravenclaw strode past your table that Theodore hooked his foot around the leg of your chair to pull you closer and placed his hand on your upper thigh, giving you his full attention for the first time that night.

“Have I told you that you look very pretty tonight?” He asked, his dark eyes meeting yours.

“Er – no,” You said, darting a confused look towards the Ravenclaw girl.

“Well, you do,” Theodore went on and turned your head back to face him by stroking his thumb over your cheek before pressing his lips onto the skin beneath your ear. They felt chapped and not pleasant in any way. You cringed.

“Uh, sorry, but that’s maybe a bit early, don’t you think?” You said, drawing back and shoving his hand from your thigh.

“She’s gone anyway, Theo,” Blaise said. You did not understand.

“Who’s gone?” You asked, looking back and forth between Theodore and the others, who all seemed to know something you didn’t. Pansy giggled.

“Nothing,” Theodore said. His sweet voice had turned bitter, and you felt like that was your fault. He stood up. “I’ll get some more punch.”

The band segued from an upbeat song into a much slower one, and the light of the candles magically dimmed.

“Do you want to dance maybe?” You asked Theodore as a way to make up for your rejection, but he had already pushed past a group of chatting seventh years, not turning around.

You sank back into your chair, picking at the tulle of your dress again. Was it too early to tell Lavender and Parvati that you wanted to go back to your dorm?

“Girl, if I were you, I would get out of here as quickly as possible,” Blaise said. You looked up at him. “He’s not worth it. And he’s not here for you. So don’t waste your energy.”

“But he asked me to the ball,” You said weakly.

“Did he? Or did he just ask for some time with you to make his ex-girlfriend jealous?”

“He – well – he…”

But Blaise looked at you and you knew that he was right, that this was never about you but some other girl. It was always about some other girl.

“Excuse me, I’ll get some fresh air,” You said and made your way through the tables towards the doors.

The last time, everyone had watched him. Now it was Harry’s turn to watch everyone else try their best on the dance floor. He wasn’t sure what was worse; to be laughed at by the others while stepping on Parvati’s feet every other second or to watch not only Hermione and Ron but also Ginny and Luna, as well as Seamus and Dean dancing closely, arms around the other.

They all had no idea what they were doing, Harry could tell, but they were having fun anyway. He had never seen Hermione this happy.

“Oh, flashback.”

Harry looked up. Parvati sat down next to him on the chair that Ron had left over half an hour ago.

“Yeah,” He mumbled, taking another sip of butterbeer, and turned back to the dance floor right in time to see Dean kissing Seamus passionately in the middle of the room.

“And you are not dancing because…?” Parvati asked. Harry crossed his arms.

“If you’re here to make fun of me or to blow up my butterbeer, feel free to fuck off.”

Parvati chuckled. “Sorry about that. But seriously, why are you sitting here miserably after all those dance lessons?”

Harry tried to make out if she was actually serious or if this was her way to revenge herself for the Yule Ball.

“Are you kidding me?” He asked. Parvati narrowed her eyebrows, now visibly puzzled.

“No, I’m genuinely asking –”

“Well, it’s not that fucking easy to slow dance if you have no date, is it,” He said crossly.

Parvati gaped at him, but he was certainly not in the mood for this. It had cost him all his strength to not look for you in the crowd all evening, he did not need reminding of you not liking him back by Parvati.

Before she could say anything else, he placed his butterbeer bottle on the table and darted outside, hands shoved deeply into the pockets of his suit and eyes directed to the floor.

Harry’s feet guided him towards the courtyard. The music played by the band wasn’t as loud out here, and the cold night air was lively in contrary to the sticky, perfumed air inside the Great Hall.

He kicked some of the grass away and walked towards the bench underneath the willow, watching how its branches weighed in the wind and thought how you were probably having as much fun as his friends, or maybe even more, considering Nott was infamous for snogging in various broom closets.

Harry’s stomach turned at the thought of that. He wished he had a time turner to make it right.

The moon stood high on the deep blue night sky, illuminating the courtyard you had unconsciously walked to. Grey clouds had approached, and tiny raindrops were falling to the ground, steadily drumming onto the roofs of Hogwarts.

On your way out of the Great Hall, you had caught a glimpse of Theodore sticking his tongue down the throat of that Ravenclaw girl, but to be honest, it didn’t matter that he was making out with someone else. It would’ve just been nice if you could have had a forewarning.

You thought you were the only single soul wandering about, then spotted a figure sitting on a bench. You were about to turn and search for some other place to wallow in your feelings, when you recognised the messy hair.

Maybe this was the time to make up for running away. Maybe this was the time to be honest.

Harry looked up when he noticed someone coming closer, the tulle of your dress rustling over the wet grass. His heart jumped and he forgot to breathe for a moment.

“Hello,” You said, voice echoing over the empty courtyard. “Can I sit?”

“Of course.”

Harry scooted to the side to make some space for you. You sat down next to him, leaving maybe a hand width between the two of you. The wide branches of the willow guided you from the cold rain.

“You weren’t dancing,” You said, staring at the grass instead of his face.

You would understand if he did not want to talk, if he just walked away. He didn’t owe you an explanation for why he had not asked you to the ball or why was sitting here instead of inside with Ginny or whoever he had asked.

“You weren’t either, were you?” Harry replied. “You and Nott.”

“No, he’s busy with someone else, so… no. Not dancing.”

“Oh.” Harry shuffled. His knee bumped against yours. “Well, he’s an idiot then.”

You smiled, not moving your knee away from his.

“Yeah…but I don’t mind, really.”

“You should,” Harry said, and he meant it. No one should be treated like that. “If anyone should be dancing, it’s you.”

You looked up at him. Harry was already watching you, and it filled you with warmth despite the freezing cold. There wasn’t a single sign of hurt on his face, just a soft curiosity lying in his green eyes.

“I’m sorry,” You whispered, “for running away last Friday. I had to sort out some things.”

“What things?” He asked quietly.

“Some…” Your heartbeat sped up. Be honest, you told yourself. “Some feelings.”

“Oh.” Harry tried to figure out what you meant by that, but the way you looked at him made his mind go blank. “You mean you…”

“I really like dancing with you,” You said. Harry felt his heart beating faster than ever against his ribcage. He wondered if you could hear it. “And I wouldn’t have done those lessons with anyone.”

The music from inside the Great Hall was growing louder, overshadowing the rain; someone must’ve opened the doors to let in some fresh air. The band was playing a slower, French song and it stung in your heart. It was one of your favourites.

When you turned back to Harry, he was standing up. For a second you thought he wanted to leave, to go back inside, then –

“May I have this dance?” Harry held out is right hand, and you did not have to think twice if you should take it or not.

He helped you up from the bench and led into the middle of the lawn, the rain still pattering onto the grass and the stone tiles. It smelled strongly of petrichor, and you thought that this was much closer to spring than the decorations in the Great Hall.

Harry’s hand found its place on your back, pulling you closer to him. You placed your hand on his shoulder, tapping his skin with your finger in time to the music out of habit, and met his eyes, reflecting the moon light in them.

Had you ever told him how beautiful he was?

The two of you moved, swaying back and forth. Harry realised that he did not even need to concentrate on the steps, he knew them by heart. The closeness of you took his breath away, the way your fingers held onto his, the way there was little to no room between your torso and his. You were smiling at him, despite the cold and the rain. Harry felt his stomach tingling.

“What’s it called?” Harry asked quietly, not wanting to drown out the music.

“‘Je Te Laisserai Des Mots’. I’ll leave you words,” You translated, having memorised the lyrics in your mind. “I’ll leave you words underneath your door, underneath the singing moon. Near the place where your feet pass by…hidden in the holes of wintertime and when you’re alone for a moment.”

You paused and Harry’s eyes fell to his feet, not able to take your gaze any longer. There were words on the tip of his tongue he did not dare to say – afraid, to ruin the moment. He wanted to stay here forever.

“Eyes up,” You said, placing your hand underneath his chin to lift his head up.

More French words reached your ears; Harry figured they were the same sentence repeated over and over, but even if he had been able to understand French, he wouldn’t have been able to translate them because of your hand still resting under his chin.

“Kiss me whenever you want,” You whispered. “Kiss me whenever you want. Kiss me –”

And then, Harry let go of his fears and kissed you.

After all it still took you by surprise how he loosened his fingers from yours to cup your face, pulling you as close to him as possible, until there was no space in between, noses bumping against each other. Both of your hands slung themselves around his neck, caressing his skin and driving up through messy hair.

His lips matched yours, gliding smoothly over one another, smearing your lip gloss everywhere until all you tasted was strawberries and sweet alcohol. With his chest against yours, Harry was glad to notice your heart beating as fast as his did, though that was also because he really needed to breathe – not that he wanted to, he would have been totally okay with never breaking away from the kiss if it was always going to feel this soft and freeing.

It was you in the end that had to carefully pull his face away from yours, heavily breathing in and out. You brushed his wet hair out of his forehead and let your fingers slide over his temples and cheeks down to his neck.

“That offer,” Harry began breathlessly, tucking a strand of hair he had accidentally drawn from your pinned-up hair behind your ear, “about continuing the dance lessons…that still stands, right?”

Your lips curved upwards into a smile. “Of course.” 

“Brilliant,” Harry said, mirroring your smile before leaning down again to close the gap between your lips.

#Harry Potter #Harry James Potter #harry potter x reader #harry james potter x reader #fluff #oneshot #my writing #angst #slow burn

[sokkagatekeeper]

bestie did i read that right you CANNOT just say “haru had a brief fling with zuko” in the tags and leave it at THAT-

no but i WOULD like to hear about haru x zuko🤔🤔 (@i-hate-mayo)

yeah well maybe i need to stop talking so much in the tags. that said! me and @/zukkot crafted this scenario (about an 80% of a joke. give or take) in which haru has a brief fling with zuko at the western air temple, most importantly at the same time he has a fling with katara. now i know this sounds batshit but there’s a big comedic value to it.

reasons why haru should hook up with zuko and katara at the same time: it would be further proof of the fact that katara and zuko share the same taste in men (see: jet, who is also sokka-esque); it would mean katara and zuko share not only one, but two ex-boyfriends/boyfriend-adjacents; it would mean dumb teen romantic drama, and i think they deserve it; it would definitely strengthen their friendship. somehow!

people this fling would piss off: katara, for letting another tall boy with nice hair break her heart and for zuko of all people nonetheless; sokka, for being foced to remember the fact that katara and zuko have the same (SHITTY) taste in men; aang, who is deep down a twelve-year old in puppy love; ty lee, who is honestly a little tired of people breaking zuko’s little heart, even if it was kinda funny at one point

people this fling would be a fun little adventure to: haru! and do not misunderstand him, he might’ve made a mistake, but in his defense, he thought katara... knew. zuko knew he was having a fling with katara as well, why wouldn’t katara? overall this was a fun experience that served haru to understand he is, in fact, straight. now “why would haru experiment with zuko, fugitive prince of the fire nation, of all people?” the answer is that haru has no impulse control, next question; toph, who loves teen drama when it’s merely outside of her person but inside her social circle, and whose feet are very aware of everything that went down at the western air temple, is very amused as well.

people this fling would not piss off: zuko, whose heart was not, in fact, broken by haru. he might’ve been hooking up with haru but deep down he was pining after sokka the entire time, the poor thing. which also brings me to my next statement;

zuko can uh... forgive the mustache, when they’re at it. katara thinks it’s hot, sokka thinks it’s hideous, zuko thinks it’s... fine. whatever. five out of ten. but it’s definitely not a plus. zuko likes haru enough, and nothing more — he’s not a sokka, y’know. not even a jet. but that’s fine, because zuko is not looking for romance! he’s looking to distract himself from his embarassing crush on sokka, the crushing weight of uncertainity of not knowing if his uncle hates his guts or not, his imminent defeat and death and general mortality upon joining a 12 year-old’s rebel gang of child soldiers, etc. you know, typical teen boy stuff. so when haru off-handedly mentions katara, zuko is just like “huh. ok?” he simply doesn’t give a shit. good for him! katara on the other hand is not looking for romance on principle, not because haru wasn’t a good candidate, but because you know, the War. girl has her priorities. but haru is so sweet to her she has got to admit she sort of got a crush. now there’s two possible scenarios in which katara finds out;

first, during their last days at ember island, when sharing grief over jet, looking to lighten up the mood a little, zuko says “isn’t it crazy we share two entire ex-boyfriends” and katara is like “what.” and then zuko gets drenched instantly. there’s no witnesses; who’s to say what happened really. maybe a very big wave or something

OR, when toph says, “i knew you had a secret thing with haru!” at the same time katara and zuko, aka the exact same person defensively say, “NO I DID NOT—” and it goes downhill from there

either way. internally, katara is like, “haru wouldn’t do that” but then she concludes she actually doesn’t care that much about haru, and she thinks “i can’t believe ZUKO would do that!!!” and she gets back on her zuko-is-evil mindset the entire day — “you just had to colonize my love life as well, didn’t you???” they are back to being ride-or-die besties by the next morning tho.

upon these very public, very hilarous revelations, sokka sincerely believes it is his right to punch that dude. fuckboying it up not only with his bro, his boy bestie, his pal, his totally absolutely entirely platonic lohl (love of his life) etc etc, but also with his sister!! that is of course until zuko tells him no, haru did not break his heart (jet did tho. poor thing p2. good thing zuko broke his heart right back! but that’s for another post). zuko insists it was a meaningless fling for him, even if it angered katara to no end, and then it angered zuko because it angered katara, because they are both Like That. since then, sokka finds the situation... kinda funny.

so a year after the war has ended, aang and katara inevitably break up. the first thing sokka does upon hearing the news is go directly to zuko like, “if you go after aang i swear to god” and then zuko almost pukes a little. not about to make out with a twelve year old, y’know? (and actually, aang is fourteen at the time, but once you know someone at twelve at sixteen you always know them at twelve at sixteen. privately, aang thinks zuko is kinda ugly, anyway.) during the years aang and katara spend as just friends, katara and haru light up their little flame again for a little while. it’s fun, but it doesn’t last. there’s too much history there, y’know? sometimes zuko will visit and give haru the bad eye, and haru thinks it’s because he kinda broke zuko’s heart, but in reality it’s because he broke katara’s heart and made her angry, and zuko can hold a grudge. eventually tho aang and katara get back together because they go really hard on fate and soulmates. zuko thinks it’s perfectly reasonable, and sokka & toph don’t want to ruin their beautiful love story just yet, so they keep quiet. when sokka and zuko get together, katara looks at zuko straight in the eye and says “no.” and zuko points at aang, and says “no.” so their shared type in men comes to an amiable end.

that is, until one night at a sleepover. zuko takes a sip of his tea (alcohol) and says, “jet was kinda like sokka, though” and katara says “No.” but zuko keeps going, also pretty horrified, “and haru is kinda like aang” and katara says “STOP.” and they happily agree to never speak of any of it ever again.

#this is my haruko agenda #katara #zuko #haru #katara&zuko #zukoxharu #kataraxharu #gaang #because of the chaos going down #(? #it counts #n #headcanons #asks #anon #i-hate-mayo #long post #i hope this was of ur liking besties. it certainly was of MY liking lmao i had the time of my life typing this

[pumpkinpaix]

Want a *really* unpopular opinion? I not only *liked* the Incense Burner extras but found them sexy, as a portrayal of two dorks using potentially dangerous magical R&D as a tool for exploring their past feelings and history and negotiating consent by trial and error and error and error.

ANON YOU FUCKING GET IT | STRONGLY AGREE | agree | neutral | disagree | strongly disagree

slams hands on table  C O R R E C T

you know what, i’ll do you one better, not only did i like them and find them sexy, i ALSO found them extremely meaningful and important!! i will defend the incense burners unto death, you can pry them from my cold dead hands!!!!

not to get super emo and personal about like, kinda silly smut, but you know what, it’s that kind of night so let’s GO oversharing time, and maybe it will help someone along the way!!! isn’t that what vulnerability is for!!!!

i don’t know if it’s common knowledge that i have ocd -- i haven’t made a secret of it or anything -- but: i suffer from pretty terrible intrusive thoughts and when you add that together with intense moral scrupulosity issues + a complicated relationship to shame and sex, you get some pretty rough thoughtcrime, self-hatred, and sex-related neuroses. i was so completely horrified by the idea of wanting sex that I thought i was ace for like, the better part of my teen years. i’m really grateful to the ace spaces i was lucky enough to find in that time because they gave me a place to feel safe while I was still figuring shit out, and I still feel a lot of kinship with them because even if i’m not ace, sex is still Difficult for me as a concept and aspec people Get It.

together with just my generally really fucked up thoughts, plus the rise of purity culture etc, i have A Lot of fear about my inner self being perceived because there’s a part of me that is convinced that if anyone really knew me, they’d find me disgusting, that they’d think i was a genuinely bad and dirty person beyond redemption. that no matter how hard i tried to be good, i was doomed to fail because there was something wrong with me internally and inherently. that like, no matter how kind or helpful or dutiful or accomplished or smart or thoughtful i tried to be, it wouldn’t make a difference!!!

im getting over it lol don’t worry

but the point is: the incense burners, especially the one in the library, really embody the ultimate fantasy of a person you love seeing your most shameful thoughts and desires and not only NOT abandoning you, but saying “oh shit, that’s hot”. can you understand the palpable relief of that!!!! ;A; and!! to take it one step further, it’s not even a big deal! wei wuxian laughs and is like ohohoho?? hanguang-jun? like this secret that lan wangji was carrying and fearing was just like. kinda cute and funny. that there was nothing to fear at all.

screams into my hands

i joke about being shuangbi kin all the time, except like, it isn’t a joke. the moment when wei wuxian notices that lan wangji is tense, when lan wangji says, “stop looking,” and tries to leave -- idk i just. i felt for him so hard there. stop looking at me. what if you don’t like what you see?

but wei wuxian does like it! and wei wuxian doesn’t think any worse of lan wangji, doesn’t think he’s fallen or disgraceful. lan wangji is still lan wangji, still hanguang-jun, still upright, still 雅正. and the narrative does the same: it never implies that lan wangji is any less of a good person because of this. it’s just an inside joke for the other extras: that lan wangji looks like the sort of person who’s a perpetual virgin because that’s what people expect from someone of his character and demeanor, but he isn’t.

i can’t like. begin to explain how much i treasure this dumb smut. it’s not the best smut i’ve ever read, not by a long shot, but it’s not anywhere near as terrible as a lot of people make it out to be. just. i got to read this thing. where a character i already identified with had his fucked up thoughts about sex perceived and accepted and loved, and it was a character who looked and sounded and thought like me!! down to the obsession with rules and fairness. a chinese character!!! and someone the narrative pretty consistently positions as a sympathetic and lovable person!! mdzs was my first danmei, so it’s entirely possible this isn’t revolutionary whatsoever. maybe this is a super common trope! idk! but it was really revelatory to me. that these really intensely complicated characters we’ve just spent like 500k learning about and falling in love with are also weird kinky dumbasses who don’t know shit. and that both can be true! and that’s presented as a fun, delightful thing! god!!!! i care them! i am so grateful to mxtx for it, regardless of anything else, i am grateful that she gave me this.

anyways, thanks for giving me this outlet anon and also like, letting me experience a version of that relief: oh i’m not alone!

(ko-fi)

🍵 ((un)popular) opinions meme

#Anonymous #asks and replies #mdzs #LET'S GO #mental illness #ocd #incense burners #mdzs incense burners #mine #mymeta #cyan dlc #this is really personal guys pls be gentle with me #it's probably embarrassingly earnest #ok to reblog #ask meme #opinions meme #mdzs meta #purity culture #in some way